


The Siege of Baker Street.

by LedByTHeUnknown



Series: My own Sherlock AU. [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Explosions, Gen, Hurt Jim Moriarty, Hurt John, Hurt Lestrade, Hurt Molly, Hurt Mycroft, Hurt Sherlock, Minor Character Death, Revenge, angst for reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-14
Updated: 2017-03-29
Packaged: 2018-09-24 10:29:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 13
Words: 21,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9718781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LedByTHeUnknown/pseuds/LedByTHeUnknown
Summary: The message played it was simple. "Did You Miss Me?" He wasn't missed, not by anyone at Baker street. But he was missed by at least one person. His lover. Sebastian Moran makes his move on Sherlock and company. Everyone he sees as responsible for Jim's death. Even if it means lots of collateral damage, infact, the more the better.started writing before S4 aired and kept going after :)





	1. Phase 1

**Author's Note:**

> Started this in November as a what if sort of thing. I liked S4 but I still wanted to continue with my own little story.

January 1st the world as he knew it was going to end for John Watson. The man who made him strong, the man who saved him was going away again. John watched him board the plane, the knot in his stomach getting tighter, he didn’t get to tell Sherlock the truth. That is was him that he loved, and not Mary. Yes Mary was the mother of his child, and he said last week that he would stay with her no matter what. But he’d had time to think now and Mary was not what he wanted, he would love their daughter, and he would still help Mary sort out her past, but he didn’t love her, not the way he loved Sherlock.

John felt lost as the plane left the tarmac, as his knees weakened he struggled to stay upright. Mary held his hand and while he as grateful for the support he was also so angry at her as much of this had been brought on by her. If she hadn’t shot Sherlock this would not have gotten to this point, if Sherlock had been able to go ahead with his original plan in Magnusson’s office...

John’s throat tightened and his eyes started to sting as the plane flew off.

Mycroft stepped out of the car and headed towards them, his face looking even more off put then normal. John peeked in and looked at the small television in the car. A very familiar face was on it, with a simple repeating message of. Did you Miss me? Miss me?

The plane circled around and landed, the three rushed aboard to see Sherlock there. John looked closely, he had been crying, or at least on the verge of tears. His phone was next to him, Mary said he was reading John’s blog, about how they first met.

Sherlock was not himself, he was talking about concocting a case in his head to try and solve the mystery of the returning Moriarty.

 

Mycroft mentioned drugs; he asked Sherlock if there was a list. John scoffed at the idea, Sherlock was just in his mind palace, and he did it all the time. The Sherlock handed Mycroft the piece of paper.

John looked, the list was extensive and had some potentially lethal combinations and dosages. It hit John hard. Sherlock did not expect to return from this mission Mycroft set up. And He must have figured if he was going to die he would go on his own terms.

John wanted to both throttle and kiss Sherlock.

Before he could decide which, Sherlock was off the plane and headed to the car.

He was sure Moriarty was dead but he also said he knew what he would do next.

The four got into the car and headed back to Baker Street.

As they pulled up they saw a familiar BMW parked in front with its owner just heading inside.

Lestrade turned as he heard the car pull up. He gave a small smile as he saw Sherlock step out.

“I saw what’s been all over the telly and couldn’t think of anywhere to come but here.” Lestrade said as the four joined him and all five headed inside.

Mrs. Hudson gave a giant smile and hugged Sherlock tight.

“I knew you wouldn’t be gone long” She said giving him another hug “I’ll put some tea on” She said headed to her flat as the others headed upstairs.

Sherlock hung his coat up and went to sit in his chair. John sat in his own as Mary, Lestrade and Mycroft found seats.

“Moriarty has to be dead” Sherlock started “He blew his brains out, no one survives that and even if they did their mental and physical capacity would be greatly diminished.”

The others just nodded

“So like the Emelia Ricoletti case there has to be a network of people keeping the spirit, the thought, the threat alive.” Sherlock said looking up at his mantle and shelves

“I’m sorry the Emelia Ricoletti case was?” Lestrade asked looking at John and Mycroft.

“A concoction of Sherlock’s drug riddled mind” Mycroft said

Lestrade frowned at the notion of Sherlock being back on drugs, he knew he had had a relapse after John and Mary’s wedding but thought he was over it; then again the prospect of exile could cause a man to do anything.

“It’s not a concoction it’s a real story look it up!” Sherlock snapped as he stood and looked over the mantle.

“Sherlock you are making up your own world based around a story mummy used to read us when we were younger” Mycroft said with worry.

Sherlock just glared at Mycroft before turning and taking a book off the shelf. Then sat again

“It’s the Obliquity of the ecliptic” Sherlock said turning a few pages.

“What like you two are forever going to rotating around each other, intertwined with a changing lean towards each other?” Lestrade said.

The other four just looked at him.

“What I liked astronomy as a kid. Question is who’s the Sun and who’s the earth?” Lestrade asked “or do you trade off one as the fixed wobbling point and the other the moving ever changing. With a slight tilt or lean away from the other”

“Well I’d say Sherlock was he was the fixed wobbling sun and Moriarty is the Earth, after all he did tell us he was Sooo changeable” John said mimicking the criminal mastermind from the incident at the pool.

“That’s Sherlock, our little ray of Sunshine” Mycroft said giving a curt smile. Sherlock just again glared.

“If Moriarty and I are to forever be entwined, even in his death, then what are his follower’s ultimate plans” Sherlock mused out loud.

“I thought you said you knew what he was going to do?” Mary asked

“I said I knew what he was going to next” Sherlock replied.

“Which is?” Lestrade asked

“Now that he has revealed himself to the world he will try to pick up where he left off, making me look the fool and continuing his reign of terror.” Sherlock said as he peeked out the window. “Using people to further his game.”

“Sherlock I think you should rest.” John said standing. “You have a lot in your system and you need to take it easy.”

“I’m fine.” Sherlock said as he continued his pacing, getting slower with each step.

John just glanced over to Lestrade who stood and headed over arms out he caught the Consulting detective as he passed out.

“His bedroom or hospital?” Lestrade asked

“His bedroom will suffice” John said as Lestrade carried Sherlock in and laid him on the bed.

“He going to be alright?” Lestrade asked

“Yes, but he’s going to be going though one hell of a tough withdrawal phase” John said, Lestrade nodded.

“I’m going to head into the office see if Moriarty has started any of his usual tricks” Lestrade said heading out.

Mary and Mycroft were still in the sitting area, Mycroft had stood and was getting ready to head out.

“I am off to see what I can find out” Mycroft said. Mary just nodded and stared down the corridor of the flat.

“Did you need anything Mary?” Lestrade asked

“No, no” She said with a small smile “We’re fine”

“Ok” Lestrade said before leaving.

Mary sighed and curled up on the couch.  
=-=-=-=-=  
John lay in the bed next to Sherlock. He had a fever starting, fever was common in withdrawals, patient warm to touch but could feel like they were freezing.

Sherlock shivered and John pulled the blanket up around him. Sherlock gave a low moan. John kissed his forehead before getting up.

John headed back to the sitting area. He asked Mary if she would prefer to move up to the second bedroom. She just shook her head and yawned. John quietly hummed as Mrs. Hudson entered with the tea tray.

“Oh they’ve all gone” She said looking around “Well more biscuits for you.” She smiled setting the tray down. She pulled the blanket up over Mary then left.

John sat back in his chair and opened his laptop. He checked his blog, no new traffic. He checked Sherlock’s website, no new traffic there either.

Whoever was behind this was staying quiet.

Mary groaned as the building shook. John got up and looked outside, several large garbage trucks were making their way down the street. They all seemed to be loaded with bags of what looked like sand.

Another truck went to opposite way filled with concrete tank stoppers. Not the normal traffic to travel down Baker Street. The again if any other the other streets were blocked due to an accident this would be the logical reroute.

John returned to the chair and poured himself a tea and put a biscuit in his mouth holding it there with his lips while he settled the laptop back on his legs.

The building rumbled again, lots of heavy trucks for a Friday afternoon. Perhaps some construction project at Regents University. They had been advertising some improvements to be made as funded by alumni.

Sherlock’s coat moaned, well the coat housed his phone, the phone with the god awful text alert as put on there by Irene Adler. It moaned again.

John finished his biscuit and put his laptop on the ottoman and retrieved the phone from Sherlock’s pocket. The text preview simply said the text was from W- and it said that Sherlock was in danger.

W? That was the name Sherlock had Irene Adler under in his phone, came from her professional persona as The Woman, Sherlock just shortened it to W.

She was dead. Beheaded in Karachi, years ago. Mycroft told him.

It moaned again.   

         _Answer me damn it_

John looked down the hall at the bedroom. This could be a trick. Someone from Moriarty’s network could have somehow got the phone from Irene either before or after her execution. It would be the perfect addition to the network, black mail on some of the British elite.

John looked at Mary sleeping, former assassin, former spy, maybe she knew. But he knew well enough to not wake her right now.

John took the phone and sat again, he put the phone next to his cup before picking it up to take a sip of the tea. He watched it waiting for it to moan.

The laptop dimmed, forgotten it was ready to enter sleep mode, John reached over and rubbed the mouse touch pad. The screen illuminated again, The post in front of him was the one Sherlock wrote, just after the wedding.

John smiled; the wedding, best part about it was the speech. It was interesting to say the least but cute. So tailor fit to John. All the cases, the bloody guardsman, the poison giant, the elephant in the room, the missing Wednesday……. Wait missing Wednesday. That was exactly around the time.

Oh Sherlock a trip to Karachi, saving Irene. John sighed. He didn’t know what it was between the two, not love, curiosity perhaps.

John looked back at the bed room then swiped the phone screen.

         _Sherlock a little indisposed at moment can I help you-JW_

The phone moaned

         _John Watson finally gave into the obvious. You need to get out of baker street-W_

John wondered if it was a trap, go outside and get shot or something.

        _How do I know this is really Irene and how do I know this isn’t a trap_

The phone moaned as a facetime call came through. John hit the button to reveal the panicked face of Irene Adler. Her hair was still perfectly pinned up and her makeup flawless but her eyes had a fear in them.

“Get out of the flat and get as far away from Baker Street as you can, do not go to MET or the Diogenes club in fact if Mycroft or Lestrade are at either of those location tell them to leave and tell Molly to leave St Bart’s.”

Mary woke “Who are you talking to John?”

“Irene Adler go to the bedroom wake up Sherlock, I will get Mrs. Hudson and we have to go, Call Mycroft and Lestrade and tell them to leave where they are and call Molly too.” John said giving Mary Sherlock’s coat and heading downstairs. There was another deep rumble that stopped John in his decent down the stairs. The rumble got worse as Mrs. Hudson came out of her flat and started up the stairs to ask John if this was another of Sherlock’s experiments.

“It’s too late” Irene said as a high pitched whistle filled the air. “Take cover”

John bounded down the last two steps to the landing and helped Mrs. Hudson to the ground as the wall in front of them blew inwards.

=-=-=-

“Sir did you see that plume of smoke?” Sally Donovan said looking out the widow “It’s over by Regents Park”

Lestrade stood and looked “That’s over by Baker Street!” he said with alarm.

“You think Moriarty is making his move already?” Donavan said as they both grabbed their jackets and headed down to the garage.

“I wouldn’t put it past him” Lestrade said frantically texting John and Sherlock as he walked.

The two entered the elevator just as the rumble started.

“Can we get earthquakes here?” Sally asked as the doors closed

“I don’t Know” Lestrade replied before the elevator shook violently and began to drop

=-=-=-

“Sir we have reports of explosions at Baker Street and at the MET” Anthea said entering the office

“I can’t reach anyone” Mycroft said standing dialing again

“I’ve dispatched teams but reports are coming back that the streets around the explosions are barricaded” Anthea reported as two more agents entered

“Barricaded with what?” the agent asked as he logged on to a computer.

“Garbage trucks!” Mycroft said pulling away from the window as a low rumble started. “Everyone to the shelter” He called as the whistle started. They were barely out of the office when the windows came shattering in.  
-=-=-=-

Molly made the three cuts on the torso that made up the Y incision, She carefully pulled back the skin and exposed the bones of the rib cage.

Taking the bone saw from the table beside her she flicked it on and started making the first cuts in the first rib.

The ground beneath her shook, she looked up as the wall in front of her collapsed.


	2. Assessing the Damage: Baker Street

John groaned as he carefully stood. He looked to see Mrs. Hudson still curled up on the landing.

 “Mrs. Hudson are you alright?” John said kneeling and checking her over.

 “Little shaken but fine dear” She said as he helped her sit. She studied the pile of ash and wall in front of them “oh dear” was all she could manage to say.

 “You just sit here I am going to go up and check on Sherlock and Mary.” John said stiffly standing.

 “Are you alright dear?” Mrs. Hudson asked as John swayed.

“Just a little knock on the head and a few bruises I’ll be fine.” John said looking around. There was lots of debris on the stairs. The blast had torn through part of the stair case leading up to 221b.

           “Do I get to come along?” A voice said from the floor.

 John looked to see Sherlock’s phone sitting screen up, cracked but still on, Irene looking up at him.

 Mrs. Hudson passed him up the phone, which was good he didn’t know if he could bend down again right now.

            “You have a nice gash over your eye doctor Watson”

 That explains the headache John thought.

            “Where are the others?” Irene asked, the phone beeped

“Battery is dying, stopping the video chat, will call back.” John said “Going to have to put phone in pocket to climb stair case anyway”

              “You better” Irene said before cutting off the call.

 John put the phone in his trouser pocket and studied the staircase in front of him. The bottom stair was gone; the one above it was only partially there. The rest were in various states of damage. John grabbed the railing that seemed to be mostly intact and pulled himself up onto the third step. He swayed as pain shot through his head, stomach and his shoulder.

The main door to 221B was gone, probably what took out part of the wall on the landing. The front of the building was completely gone. As John entered he noticed the floor from just in front of his chair was gone, collapsed on the floor below. The walls on either side almost nonexistent. He carefully turned and saw Sherlock and Mary on the ground at the entry way to the kitchen, Sherlock covering Mary. John stood starring scared to move forward, with all the debris they may not have… No he wasn’t going to think like that.

 “John” Mary said softly John let out a sigh of relief. “John is that you”

 “I’m here” He said coming over and starting to remove the debris off of them

 “Sherlock is unconscious” She said

 “Ok and how are you?” He asked as he started to carefully check over Sherlock.

 “Fine” she replied.

John just nodded and continued to examine Sherlock. His shirt was charred; a large shrapnel filled burn ran from the base of his neck to mid back. John carefully palpitated around Sherlock’s neck something felt off.

“He was hit by something as we fell” Mary said seeing the look on John’s face. “Then all this debris came down”

“I need to find something to immobilize him. I think what ever hit him injured his neck, he also seems to have a concussion” John said standing; he carefully stepped over Mary’s legs and started digging around in the kitchen.

“Just leave him John it will be fine till the paramedics get here” Mary said, there was pain in her voice.

“I don’t know where my phone is, Sherlock’s is nearly dead I haven’t called yet” John said as he removed the tea towels and some packing tape.

“There was a massive explosion, police, fire and paramedics will be on the way as is” Mary replied. Her breathing sounded off to John; Then again she was on her side with the bulk of Sherlock on her.

John folded the towels and carefully wrapped them around Sherlock’s neck, not tight but bulky enough to keep his head from moving. He held the last layer in place with a few strips of packing tape.

Carefully supporting Sherlock’s head and neck with one hand John placed his other hand on Sherlock’s hip. Mary was able to move her arms and helped support Sherlock’s front as they got him flat on his back.

John examined him more, lots of cuts, and bruises but nothing else major was presenting itself. So John went to the bedroom and got the blanket to cover Sherlock. When he returned Mrs. Hudson was kneeling next to Mary.

“Mrs. Hudson, How?” John 

“I still have some strength in me” Mrs. Hudson said with a small smile.

“Just let me lie here and I will be fine” Mary said

John examined her. Mostly bruised but in labour 

“I can hold it” Mary said when John asked 

“You can’t hold it” John snapped as he looked around.

“It’s awful quiet” Mrs. Hudson spoke up as John dug though the kitchen cupboards for anything he could use in helping to deliver his own child.

John paused she was right, there were sirens but they seemed so far off. 

John carefully made his way to the edge of the floor. Little bits crumbled under his steps.

At the end of the street he could see two of the large garbage trucks; they were parked along bend where Baker Street became Park road. Two more were parked blocking where Baker Street met Allsop Place. Each barricade also had some tank stoppers in front, a glance the other way saw that Baker Street was barricaded at Malcolmbe. Each barricade had several what looked like soldiers armed with guns. Anyone trying to get near them was gathered into a holding area off to the side.

What was going on?

Mary gave a cry from behind him and he turned and rushed over, his little one was coming and he was going to be the one bringing her into the world.


	3. Assessing the Damage: Diogenes

Anthea blinked at the assault of the light on her eyes. There was something heavy on her, solid, she carefully looked down to see the body of Agent Keinfeld, he was pinned to her by the chair that had also succeeded in crushing the poor guy’s head between it and floor.

Anthea attempted to move the body off her only to have pain shoot though both arms. Her one shoulder was dislocated; she was familiar with that pain having had it dislodged once before while in a fight in Istanbul. She could see the blood on her other arm; a rather large piece of glass was embedded in her forearm just below her elbow.

She started assessing the rest of her body, broken rib, maybe two, was hard to distinguish from pain alone. Her legs were sore but she could move them. She braced herself against the fallen desk and forced herself to sit up. The pain in her shoulder flared trying to match the pain in her side.

Agent Keinfeld’s body rolled onto her legs she shifted her weight to roll him onto the ground which allowed her to stand, the area was still smoky and the smell of the explosives lingered. The entrance way was blocked by debris and she could see the unmistakable arm of Agent Weatherson sticking out from the rubble. She gingerly moved her bleeding arm, the pain was not too bad, and she could move her wrist and all her fingers, she could move all her fingers on her other arm too just didn’t want to because of the pain.

If she could get her shoulder in she would be in a much better position.

“Did you need assistance my dear” She heard a familiar voice say but she could not see where it was coming from. “I am just behind the desk”

Anthea moved closer to see her boss and friend sitting on the floor back against the wall by the fireplace, one leg bent up and pulled up under the other, the leg on top was out straight. The large mahogany desk was tipped over on its side resting on the outstretched limb.

“Lean down I can get your shoulder sorted” Mycroft said reaching up with one hand.

“Are you alright sir” Anthea asked looking him over, he was covered in small cuts probably from flying debris. And had a large bruise on his forehead that was already developing a sizable lump. The hand he did not reach up to Anthea was resting on his lower waist near his hip.

“Actually I am better then I initially thought, the pressure of the desk is pinning my leg preventing blood loss, will most likely be losing that lower half, luckily for me there are great advancements in the world of prosthetic limbs.” He acknowledged the desk in front of him. “Small minor puncture wound in my side just above my hip; don’t believe it hit anything major, thank god for a little bit of pudge left on my sides. And I seem to have had quite the knock on my head which is probably why I cannot shut myself up. Now if you could please kneel down here I will get your shoulder back in.” Mycroft continued as he grasped Anthea’s wrist.

She allowed a hiss of pain to escape her lips as she knelt down in front of him.

He moved his hand from his side and placed it on her shoulder as he pulled down on her arm where he was now grasping her above the elbow.

Anthea screamed as the bones shifted back into their proper place. She slid down and sat back against the wall next to Mycroft. She carefully moved her shoulder testing it to see if it would stay in place.

“You should find something to immobilize that” Mycroft said

“I will” Anthea replied studying the glass in her other arm. “I can take this glass out if I can bandage it that would give me a more working hand.”

“Here use my tie and pocket square” Mycroft said loosening it and handing them to her.

“Thank you”

Anthea braced herself and began to pull on the glass. Once out it didn’t spurt, which was good, it just sort of leaked. She placed the pocket square on top and then wrapped the tie around and tied it off.

“I am going to see if I can move any of the debris blocking to doorway or see if I can get a line out” she said standing.

“I have tried my mobile but the network is busy nothing is going through neither texts nor calls.” Mycroft said as he tried to sit up more to keep Anthea in view.

“The explosive device, I’ve not seen anything like it.” Anthea said as she studied the wall of debris I watched it come through the floor like it burrowed”

“Ah the mole detonator,” Mycroft mused with a small smile, “we had been looking to purchase some for our military but unfortunately all the dealers were a little too shady, even for my standards”

“A burrowing explosive, comes in handy, but the ground shaking seems to be a giveaway” Anthea replied as she started moving some of the smaller debris chunks

“Hence the large trucks, one would assume that the vibrations were from them. Many facilities have defenses that would prevent anyone getting close with any other form of explosive. Very few places have security measured that extend below the ground, which reminds me when we get through this I will set up subterranean security measures.” Mycroft closed his eyes.

“Stay awake sir.” Anthea called as she moved a piece that allowed her to see out into the main office, or rather wat was left of it. “Sir you really need to stay awake."

“Why” Mycroft said lazily as he left his eyes closed

“There’s a whole squad of armed men standing outside just on Carlton House, sort of where our wall used to be” Anthea reported

“What are they doing?” Mycroft tiredly asked

“They’re just standing; starring, rather unnerving really, they each have an assault rifle, some Colts, some MKEKs. It’s a hodgepodge of weaponry. I don’t think they are regular forces. They look more like a militia or guerilla group. Sir?” Anthea turned with worry when Mycroft didn’t answer.

“I’m still awake; sorry was trying to go through my memories and files to see what militant group we should have kept a better eye on. Mind is a little fuzzy however, nothing seems in order.” Mycroft sighed.

“They’re clothing is actually rather mismatched as well, I think the one on the far right is wearing a Megadeath t-shirt, next to him looks like an AC/DC t-shift with the sleeves ripped off” Anthea relayed what she saw to her boss

“Oh for aerodynamic purposes, must be Brendan” Mycroft mused.

“Sorry sir?” Anthea said turning “You know one of the men?”

“AC/DC t-shirt with the sleeves torn off, Brenden, the marathon runner…. Ever heard one of Tommy Tiernan’s stand-up routines” Mycroft smiled.

“Can’t say I have sir.” Anthea said leaving the wall and carefully kneeling down by him again, she winced as she felt pull in her side. She began to check over Mycroft more thoroughly

“Did you injure your side my dear” Mycroft asked carefully turning his head and giving her a worried look.

“I think I broke a rib, but it’s non-displaced, I don’t feel any grinding, just plenty of pain” she said as she carefully touched his forehead around the bruising and the lump. Mycroft hissed in pain.

“Sorry” She said standing again and scanning the room, there was a refrigerator in the shelter, she saw it on the back wall another of the sitting room chairs in front of it. She moved it and pulled out the ice tray.

“You shouldn’t be moving or lifting all this if you are injured.” Mycroft said in an almost scolding tone.

“With those guys out there I won’t be moving much, no desire to go out and face them right now, but, you are getting some ice for your head, I am going to tie off your leg just below your knee because the blood is starting to pool more, and I am going to try and get back on the network and find out what the hell is going on.” She said a little more forcefully then she meant to.

Mycroft just looked at her like a lost child. The head injury was getting to him and now with his leg bleeding more it would lead to high blood loss.

She gave him the ice pack she created with a resealable plastic baggie that she then wrapped in a bar towel, and knelt with the belt she stopped to take from Agent Keinfeld. She gently slid it under his leg just below his knee, looping it around she pulled it tight.

Mycroft gasped in pain before passing out.

Anthea put a second pack of ice on the edge of the leg by the desk, and then went to the other desk to try and see if she could get back on the network and get help.


	4. Assessing the Damage: New Scotland Yard

Greg took hold of each side of the opening and pulled. The doors gave way opening up the 5th floor, it was a mess. The whole center of the building was gone. Just a hole that went from ground floor to roof, Greg could see the sky above.

He looked back at the interior of the elevator; Sally was lying on the floor, she kept fading in and out of consciousness. They had fallen 10 floors, and Greg still wasn’t sure what stopped the elevator from falling more. It seemed to slow just a bit then finally jerked to a stop. The jerking stop was rough.

Greg had jumped up to try and brace himself by holding the grated top of the elevator, he jumped just as it jerked to a stop, legs already in the air he tucked in tight as he hit the floor of the elevator, the air was knocked clean from his lungs, and the first few moments were spent painfully trying to breathe. After that it was assessing the rest of his body, his hip hurt but he could move it, a bit, and stand on it, not his full weight but enough to move around, his side was sore, and he had a wicked head ache. Sally was on the ground beside him. Both her legs were misshapen and bloody, and she had a large lump on the side of her head. Greg had removed his coat and laid it over her.

He tried the emergency button on the elevator console, but it wasn’t working. That’s when he decided to get the doors open.

It wasn’t as easy as it looked in the movies; then again Greg really wasn’t in peak physical form. It took a few attempts before they slowly cracked open, just the interior ones; they were just a foot or so lower than the exterior doors labeled 5th floor.

Those one were surprisingly easier and now Greg stood looking out at the carnage in front of him.

He knelt down and checked Donovan. She gave a small moan but didn’t wake.

“I’m going to go see if the stairs are clear. I’ll be back.” He said before standing, it wasn’t as easy this time, there was a pull in his knee and his hip twinged.

He carefully steadied himself in front of the door, bent his knees and gave a small hop while holding onto the sides of the elevator door. He successfully pulled himself onto the 5th floor. A wave of dizziness overtook him and he pitched forward, hitting the floor with an unconscious thump.

=-=-=-=-=-

The heat of a warm Kobuleti, Adjara, Georgia sunset brushed over the face of the former ex-royal military man. He lounged his 6 foot frame on the cabana bed, his 174lb athletic frame clothed only in the small black speedo. Napping next to him on the bed was the love of his life.

The slightly shorter man was lying on his stomach arm draped over the other’s chest. They could relax here, their security was good. Their own private villa with their own pool with view of the sea and beach access, in a non-extradition country, life was good.

Sebastian leaned over and kissed his lovers cheek. Jim Moriarty, one of the most feared men in the criminal world; cuddled next to Sebastian Moran one of the most deadly assassins in the world, if anyone could see them now, cuddled together in the sun not a care in the world.

Well not a care for now. They were scheduled to fly out to London the following day. It was time to play a little game with a man by the name of Sherlock Holmes, called himself the world’s only Consulting Detective. Jim had just smiled he seemed like a fitting adversary for the world’s only Consulting Criminal. The fact that they had had a run in before, years ago when they were younger, Sherlock tried to solve one of Jim’s first kills.

Sebastian was looking forward to this little game, toying with people was always fun, and toying with those of higher intelligence, those who thought themselves above others, they were the best ones to toy with.

Jim gave a soft moan as he woke.

“How long was I asleep?” He asked as he sat and stretched.

Sebastian just smiled as he watched the fading sun shine on the naked body making it glow.

“About two hours” Sebastian replied reaching up and running his hand over the long lean torso in front of him. “Are you hungry?”

Jim gave a wicked smile. “I am, but not for any food”  


He leaned down and nipped at Sebastian’s neck before biting down hard on the former marine’s collar bone.

Sebastian smiled as he yanked Jim’s head up by his hair and planed a firm kiss on his lips while grabbing his growing erection in his hand.

=-=-=-=-=

The larger truck hitting the pot hole jarred the man in the passenger seat back into the present.

Sebastian looked out the window, there were driving up Goswell Road heading towards St. Bartholomew’s Hospital.

This would be their first stop. Molly Hooper, she was the easiest in to Sherlock Jim could find, a Pathologist with a hard on for Sherlock that knew no bounds.

The grown woman practically fawned over Sherlock like a teen over a tiger beat cover boy. It was sickening really.

Not that love was sickening, no, Jim was a criminal mastermind, but that didn’t mean that he didn’t know or feel love. On the contrary, Jim was quite the romantic. That was the difference between Sherlock the cold unfeeling Sociopath and Jim the full of emotions, but still collected psychopath.

For as much hate that Jim could project towards others, for all his blowing up old ladies who veered from the script to poisoning children for the fun of it, Jim could be loving, from caring for Sebastian after a recruit turned on them, shooting Sebastian in the leg to cooking amazing dinners for two. Plus he was a beast in bed. That man had stamina that lasted for days.

But all that was gone now. Jim was taken away from him. By Molly Hopper and Mycroft Holmes who helped Sherlock fake his death. By Detective Inspector Gregory Lestrade who never waned from believing in Sherlock Holmes, and by Doctor John Watson, the one who never gave up on Sherlock, the same John Watson who reported Sebastian’s first under the table deal with the Afghan forces. The same John Watson who got Sebastian discharged from the royal marines.

The building or rather what was left of it, that housed the pathology unit of St. Bart’s came into view.

Sebastian stepped out as the vehicle stopped. His men were still lined up at the barricades.

He loved this little army of misfits he put together, men from around the world who had either been discharged or denied entry to the military for failing their psychiatric assessments. There were a few militia groups too, and a couple of rogue and wayward former operatives from various clandestine organizations.

Getting them in was easy. Setting up this little operation was harder. Who would have guessed how hard it was to secure 20 heavy industrial garbage trucks and fill half of them with sand. It was harder than getting the mole detonators into the country, the rest just fell into place with a few well-placed bribes.

Sebastian stopped and breathed in the air, the mixture of explosives and standard hospital smell made him smile, his mind almost wandering back to a happier time with Jim in Cambodia.

One of his men approached, they said the outlook inside didn’t look good. Sebastian nodded and followed.


	5. Assessing the Damage: St. Bart’s

Pain, all there was, was pain. Molly didn’t dare look down again. She didn’t need to see it again.

The bone saw, still rotating as the explosion rocked the morgue, came to rest on her chest. The blade now embedded in her sternum, the pain that radiated trough her body with every breath was stabbing. The body she had been working on was now laying on her, the blood running down and mingling with her own.

Great she thought, going to have to go through a few rounds of shots and tests after this. Preliminary tests showed the corpse of one Arturo Ballston didn’t have any communicable diseases but still, the treat of infection and such. The autopsy table, thank god had remained bolted to the floor so was now probably down somewhere around reception and the receiving bay. The floor under here seemed to be holding up, even if there was no floor under her legs.

Her legs, they ached, a burning sensation every time she tried to move them. She wasn’t bleeding too much, the saw was stuck in her chest yes, but long as it was there she was fine, it was keeping her from bleeding too much, most of the blood was from the corpse, not that corpses bled a lot but having one tipped over on an angle and the fluids ran.

Someone would have to find her, though the voices in the corridor were not exactly what she was hoping to hear.

There was some shouting. Sounded German, then a Far East dialect, Farsi maybe? She had heard Sherlock speak that once, it sounded like that.

Molly held her breath and starred at the cleaning, unblinking as the men entered the morgue.

They weren’t doctors, or firemen, they had guns but weren’t any sort of police Molly had ever seen.

She could just make them out in her peripheral vision. She remained eyes fixed on the fire sprinkler that remained on the ceiling above. She wondered why it never triggered, all the others did. Then again, small graces. If it had been going, this playing dead would have been a lot harder with water hitting her face.

The voices were speaking again, still in German. She heard her name, Sherlock’s and something about the MET.

A rock or chunk of debris hit her shoulder, it too every ounce of will she had left not to flinch or make a sound.

“What a waste.” She heard one of the men say. “So smart, Jim actually liked you. You could have been such an asset.”

The man turned and walked away.

=-=-=-

Sebastian turned from the rubble in front of him. Was sort of sad to see Molly laid out there, all the blood and a blank stare at the ceiling, done in by one of her tools of her trade. If Sherlock survived this little assault, she would have been good to use against him.

In a rare misstep by Jim he had underestimated the importance of Molly in Sherlock’s life. To an outsider she had been a grown adult acting like a silly school girl all while the object of her affections used her for nothing more than a way to get what he needed.

But it was more than that. Sherlock had trust in Molly, trust that she would do anything for him, the fact she kept Sherlock’s fake suicide from John and Lestrade for two years. Even as she watched both turn to alcohol to cope, John on the verge of the deep end of depression and Lestrade giving up any hope of saving his marriage, moving out to a tiny studio flat in Islington, then finding his way to Knightsbridge a lovely posh flat with the name of a certain alleged unfeeling government official on the paperwork. Hmm so maybe Sherlock’s death wasn’t that hard on Lestrade, then again he had moved back to Islington after learning of Mycroft’s part in the ruse.

Sebastian leaned his head back as the truck pulled onto Warwick Lane. The streets were a little hard to navigate. Panic as it was due to four explosions in the city, each site barricaded and guarded. Of course the police network was down; Mycroft’s little government operation too. Sebastian used the same hacker that got into the networks to broadcast Jim’s message to tie up their systems garages that wouldn’t open to let vehicles out, fake reports. It was all very splendid and so smart.

Sebastian had been planning revenge since the day Sherlock made that leap off the building.

Sebastian had asked to be the one trained on John; He wanted to be the one to kill the meddling doctor if it came down to that. He already had the pleasure of aiming at him before at the pool. Oh how he wanted to pull that trigger and send John sprawling backwards with his blood staining the tiles.

But then Irene called, she had some extra sensitive information that Jim could use in order to find out more information on a government plot he was looking to unravel. Who knew that then call from Irene would keep them in the game with Sherlock.

Jim had rewarded her handsomely. He gifted to her a small hotel in Greece. There she started up her business again, this time expanding on her one woman operation. Training young women to do what she did and even some men. Sebastian had enjoyed his one on ones with her, what he learned he used on Jim, much to Jim’s delight.

Irene had really been there for him after Jim’s death, allowing him to spend time in one of the rooms of the hotel, trying to decide what he was going to do. She also had his passport; Jim had sent it to her, along with a note. In the note Jim had told Sebastian that he had a premonition that he was uncertain of how things would turn out. That he blocked Sebastian from traveling as he didn’t want Sebastian getting hurt. Sebastian cried when he read that. Here was Jim scared of Sebastian getting hurt when it was Jim himself who wound up dead.

He started forming his plan but there was still so much he couldn’t do. Sherlock in his two years of “death” had practically dismantled their entire network. He hardly had any contacts to turn to.

He sold the villas in Georgia and the Dominican Republic, as well as the flats in New York, Paris, St. Petersburg, and Glasgow. He kept the flat in London and Jim’s family home in Bawnboy, Ireland. He couldn’t get rid of those, they meant too much to him.

He traveled trying to recruit, using Greece and Bawnboy as home bases. Then last May he got a call. Someone wanted to help him in his endeavor to undo Sherlock and company.

It seems Jim had made contact with this person a while ago and they had a pseudo plan in place, which was sort of derailed by Jim’s death. But this voice on the end of the line had information, good information on all involved.

They also had the funds and some connections to help Sebastian grow his army.

And grow it did.

Then word came of Sherlock’s exile. Sebastian panicked everything they had planned was for London. It had to be London.

His mysterious partner had a contingency plan in place, and everything was bumped up by a few weeks, not ideal but doable.

And the broadcast networks were hacked and the message played.

Did you miss me?

Sebastian thought he was prepared for that, he wasn’t. Truth was he did, and he always would.

Sebastian glanced out the Window again, Big Ben, he sighed, Jim had had such wonderful plans for that iconic landmark.

Maybe after all this was over Sebastian could put them into motion.


	6. The Arrival

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is a VERY short chapter, I know but it's so self contained I wanted to leave it as is.

John knelt at Mary’s feet, she had been pushing for what seemed like forever and she was getting weaker, the pushes were not forceful anymore. Their young daughter was only just starting to appear.

“Mary I know this is hard but, you have to try and push as hard as you can.” John said gently freeing his daughters head from the birth canal.

“Oh John there’s an awful lot blood” Mrs. Hudson said worry in her voice.

The landlady was sitting between Sherlock and Mary, minding both of them. Helping Mary sit and push and also telling Sherlock to just lie still during his bouts of consciousness.

“It’s ok Mrs. Hudson, there’s a lot more blood involved in child birth then the telly will have you believe, not very glamorous” John said as he gently reached a bit below his daughters head to grasp her shoulder to try and guide her out.

“Are you saying I’m not pretty” Mary said weakly but trying to sound cross.

“You are gorgeous, glowing in the aura of childbirth” John replied with a cheeky smile

“Oh fuck off” Mary snapped as she leaned on Mrs. Hudson.

“John, I don’t think the blood is supposed to be coming from under her arm” Mrs. Hudson, said as Mary gasped for air again.

John looked up “What?!”

He had checked Mary over…. He had checked her stomach and her bump; he had checked the baby, not Mary.

He looked down at the little one her shoulders and head in his hands. All his focus had been on his little one that he had ignored Mary for the most part. Once he recognized that she was in labor he had stopped checking her, all his focus on the baby.

How could he have been so stupid? How could he have ignored her? He studied the woman in front of him, the breathlessness, the labored breathing, and the weakness. Whatever was impaling her under her arm, the pushing of labour shifted it and it had hit her lung, she may have been fine had he treated her first, but now, the pushing, the shifting it was killing her.

“John Look at me” Mary said as she struggled to sit up. He did reluctantly “You get our daughter into this world and you make sure she is alright.”

John nodded and turned his focus back to the little one in his hands.

Her shoulders were now out. John carefully slid his hands under her shoulders and started to gently pull. Slowly her torso and hips appeared followed by her legs and feet. He laid her on his arm stomach down and gently tapped her back, he cleaned her nose and mouth and soon the sound of a tiny cry filled the air.

“You asked my real name” Mary said near breathless “Rosamund, Rosamund Mary Morstan, that’s the full of it. Our daughter” She weakly said trying to sit “Call her Rosamund Mary, Rosie”

“How about Rosamund Alice, your name and my grandmothers” John said still cradling his new born daughter in his arms

“Rosamund Alice Martha” Mary turned to Mrs. Hudson “I think that is a lovely name”

“It is lovely” Mrs. Hudson said tears forming in her eyes. John bundled Rosie up in his shirt and handed her to Mrs. Hudson.

“Now let me take care of you” He said washing off his hands.

“No John, You and Sherlock, take care of her” Mary said she reached across and put her hand under her arm.

“Mary NO!” John said as he tried to hurry over.

He was too late, Mary pulled out the object embedded in her side, blood poured out.

“Oh, and to think I like that damned Bison skull” Mary whispered before her body relaxed, her hand holding a curved shard of the bison’s horn.


	7. Chapter 7: Those Left Behind: MET

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Had a comment that since disappeared, but.  
> A lot of this is happening at the same time. So it may seem like timings are off but it's because it's all happening together!

Greg groaned as he rolled onto his back, he had passed out after pulling himself out of the elevator, he’d hit the floor hard his head that had only had a slight throbbing pain was now pounding. He tried to get up but his leg was not cooperating. His hip refused to move and pain radiated though him when he tried to bend his knee.

He pushed himself onto his back and stared at the ceiling: the sky, which was visible though the rather large gap left by the explosion, was grey with a sort of purple hue. It was going to rain.

There had to be people searching the building for survivors, why hadn’t they come. Something wasn’t right about this. It was an explosion, that’s usually links to terrorists; the government should be all over this. Mycroft would be texting, or sending agents to check on him. Why was no one here? Would there even be anyone coming?

Greg slowly pulled himself up to a sitting position. He winced as the muscles in his side and stomach started to spasm; they were still not ok after having the wind knocked out. He reached up with his hand and gently touched his face, it was sore. There was something under his nose. He wiped and looked, blood, he gingerly touched his nose, yep broken. His cheek, and by his eye was swollen too, he didn’t even want to think about how it looked.

He carefully looked around. How the hell was how the hell was he supposed to get himself out of here let alone get Donovan out of the elevator and out of the building.

There was an echo of voices in the stairwell. Greg gave a small smile. They were saved.

“Hey, we got survivors here!” Greg called. Carefully pulling himself closer to the elevator. “Someone is coming Sally. We’re getting out of here”

She just looked up at him with a small smile.

Greg looked at the stairwell as the men exited. The smile faded from Greg’s face. These men armed with heavy assault weapons were not the search and rescue squad, they were the ones who caused it.

The tall blonde leading the group smiled as he neared Greg.

“Detective Inspector Lestrade, you look a little disheveled, long day?” the man asked as he came to kneel in front of Greg “Do you know who I am.”

“No” Greg replied “Am I supposed to”

“You’ve seen me before. Standing in the gallery of the courthouse, watching the farce of trial you made my sweet Jimmy through.

“Jimmy?” Greg asked confused.

“You put him on trial for stealing the crown jewels. He didn’t steal them, he merely wanted to see them up close” Sebastian smiled.

“James Moriarty” Greg answered looking down

“Yeah. Then you let Sherlock get close to him, you let Sherlock kill him.” Sebastian said though gritted teeth.

“Sherlock didn’t kill Moriarty, He blew his own brains out on the roof of St. Bart’s before Sherlock jumped” Greg replied

“Liar!” Sebastian said slapping Greg across the face.

“It’s the truth” Greg said leaning against the wall at the opening of the elevator as his head started to swim again

“You are going to tell me the truth” Sebastian said standing. He took the gun from the holster, and aimed it into the elevator. “Tell me what really happened on that roof top, or she dies”

“I told you the truth. Moriarty” Greg started

“HIS NAME IS JIM!!!” Sebastian yelled

“Ok, Ok, I told you the truth about JIM” Greg said starring at the gun “Please just put that away and you can walk out of here.”

“Your boyfriend is British Government you know more than you are saying.” Sebastian said cocking the gun

“Mycroft is not my boyfriend, and he doesn’t tell me anything” Greg replied “Please, she isn’t part of this just let her be”

“Not the answer I want Gregory” Sebastian said. A shot ran out, a small gasp of pain escaped Donovan’s mouth. “That was in her leg, she can survive a bullet in the leg, with enough help. Next one is in her head.”

“I’m telling you all I know!” Greg replied trying to not let the fear overshadow the anger in his voice. He looked into the elevator Donovan’s blood now running along the tilted floor and pooling in the far left corner.

“Fine so you weren’t in on the killing of Moriarty, Mycroft just wanted to protect his little brother. Didn’t want his boyfriend getting involved. But I know major crimes handled the body, and the aftermath. Where is Jimmy buried?” Sebastian asked

“No burial. He was cremated” Greg replied

“Wrong answer!” Sebastian said pulling the trigger. There was no sound from Sally Donovan as the bullet entered her head just above her eye.

“NO!” Greg yelled out “You bastard, you mother-fucking bastard” Greg tried to get up but was only met with a sharp pain in his stomach. He looked down to see the blood starting to spread across his stomach.

“Goodbye Detective Inspector, If you can’t tell me the truth, Perhaps having a little tête–à–tête with Mycroft will give me my answers.” Sebastian said turning to go.

“You leave him alone!” Greg hissed out as the world around him started to get fuzzy.

“You are in no position to argue Gregory.” Sebastian said as he and his men left.

Greg just leaned on the elevator looking down at the body of Sally Donovan.

“I’m sorry Sally, I am so sorry.” Greg said though the tears in his eyes.

=-=-=-=-=

Sebastian made his way down the stairs to the ground floor. He was met at the bottom by some of his men.

“What should we do next sir?” He asked.

“Move the trucks, let the emergency personnel waiting over at Strutton Ground and Abbey Orchard Street to come and pick over the wreckage for survivors. “ Sebastian said heading to the car.

“What of the ones who escaped, the ones we’re holding” The man asked

“Leave them. I got the one I came for” Sebastian said getting in the vehicle.

The man nodded and went to get the trucks moving.

“IT’s going to take a while to get to the Government guy. Emergency vehicles for this place have most of the streets between here and Carlton House Terrace blocked with their vehicles, going to have to take the long way.” Dalton, his driver said as they started down Victoria Street, felt nice to drive against the normal flow of traffic.

“How come the emergency services are suddenly so mobile?” Sebastian asked as he watched his vehicles moving away from New Scotland Yard.

“Not sure sir” Dalton said

Sebastian looked out the window and sighed. He should have thought about that. Of course after the explosions Buckingham Palace and the Mall would be blocked off. Hell his men were the ones blocking half the Mall.

Westminster Abbey came into view. Jim and Sebastian had talked about marriage once, joked that they were going to do the whole giant royal wedding thing. They’d joke about who would have the double cathedral length veil and gown. But of course, Jim would be in one of his impeccably tailored suits. Every suit Jim owned was a bespoke suit, carefully tailored for every inch of him.

Jim could dress down if the occasion called for it, but even in jeans and a polo shirt he could be the best dressed person in the room.

Sebastian closed his eyes, and felt a tear run down his cheek.

Call him a fool, call him sentimental, but when Jim died, a part of Sebastian died too.

But now all who took him away from him were going to die, Molly and Lestrade already were and he got the bonus of another police officer. Next was Mycroft Holmes and then the end game, Sherlock Holmes.

 

=-=-=-

 

“We have a man in here!!” The voice called in the distance.

Greg struggled to open his eyes then keep them open as the footsteps got closer.

“He’s been shot” the man in the coveralls said as he knelt beside Greg. Greg studied him. He had a patch on his arm. He was with fire rescue, a paramedic.

“Sebast, Moran” Greg managed to say.

“Is that your name sir?” The paramedic asked

“No. I’m DI Greg Lestrade” Greg said trying to sit up more

“Ok Greg, I’m Paul you just take it easy” he calmly said as he began checking Greg over. “Is this Moran the one who shot you?”

Greg nodded.

“Have call, Mycroft, Holmes” Greg said as the Paul put pressure on the wound in his stomach. “Have to warn. Going to Carlton House Terrace”

“Carlton House Terrace is under some sort of blockade” The other paramedic said as he hopped up from inside the elevator “Some sort of explosion much like here”

Greg tried to get up

“I have to go, Have to help Myc” He said weakly.

“You are going to the hospital Mrs. Lestrade. You are luck, gut shots do some damage but they bleed out slow when the person doesn’t move. So we are going to keep you alive by having you lay still ok” Paul said guiding Greg down to a laying position.

“Moran, going, hurt, Myc” Greg said as he struggled to stay awake.

“They are trying to get near it” The other paramedic said as he leaned towards Paul “The girl in the elevator is black tag” he whispered before turning back to Greg. “Once are network started to come back up so did the military’s they’re getting ready to mobilize”

“Baker street too” Greg said as he struggled to stay awake.

“Military will handle it” Paul smiled as Greg slipped into a pain medication induced slumber.

=-=-=-=

Molly opened her eyes and looked around. Mike Stamford was standing just over from her.

“Hello” he smiled “You gave us quite a scare laying there eyes open and saw in your chest, when I neared though you flinched and passed out. But The firemen are working on getting you free.”

“Ok Molly said as she watched the firemen were standing at her feet looking down. “What are they doing?”

“They are bracing the floor beneath you so they can walk on it, bloody miracle that it’s still up with you on it.” Mike said with a smile.

“There was a man here, speaking in another language, said something about Sherlock and the Met” Molly said as a paramedic got his gear ready

“Well there were explosion at the Met, and Baker Street as well as one on Carlton House Terrace.” Mike replied.

“Please find out if everyone is ok” Molly said as the Paramedics came to kneel by her and began working.


	8. Those Left Behind: Diogenes & Baker Street

Anthea watched as the paramedics worked on Mycroft. It was not as simple as moving the desk and getting him on a stretcher and going. There was so much pre-work to be done.

Mycroft hadn’t said much since the cavalry arrived. He was weaker than he would care to admit. The blood loss was starting to get to him as was the bump on his head.

Anthea was sitting on her own stretcher the morphine was already coursing through her veins taking away the aches and pains she had been feeling.

“I need to call Gregory.” Mycroft softly said looking up at the paramedic.

“OK, who’s Gregory” The paramedic asked

“My boyfriend, if he will have me back after what I did.” Mycroft replied.

“Where is Gregory?” he asked

“He works for New Scotland Yard, at the MET” Mycroft said with a proud tone in his voice.

“We will have to check our registries sir; the MET was also hit with a similar explosion.” A second paramedic said. This elicited glares from Anthea and the first paramedic.

Mycroft tried to get up and then tried to search his jacket.

“I need my mobile” He said

“I will find Greg for you” Anthea called over, this did seem to calm Mycroft.

“Thank you. I can’t lose him” Mycroft replied before passing out again.

 

=-=-=-=

“How can they have already retaken the Diogenes Club??!!” Sebastian hollered as they sat parked at the end of The Mall.

“Our security monitors said that the second the military and government computers were back up and running and their fleets were mobile that is the first place they headed.” Dalton replied looking at the laptop beside him.

“Well on to Baker Street before we lose that too” Sebastian hollered at Dalton as he watched an ambulance pulling away.

Jim stared out the window at Buckingham Palace in the distance. One day he’s see it in ruins.

Dalton headed up Regent Street, things were slowly staring to get back to normal. Traffic was flowing more freely now. This was not good; this was not what was supposed to happen.

The computers and agency were supposed to be off line for nearly the entire day. The city was supposed to be shut down, panic and chaos.

Sebastian grabbed his phone and dialed.

“Hello Sebastian, is it all done yet?” The voice asked

“No” Sebastian replied voice dripping with anger “We got to St. Bart’s and to the Met but the military is back online, you said the city would be shut down for the day. We showed up at the Diogenes and the military is already there.”

“Oh sorry.” The voice replied

“Sorry!!?” Sebastian echoed

“I didn’t expect Mycroft’s little second to be so, unhurt” The voice said “It was Anthea Lawrence’s credentials that got back into the system and kicked my man out”

“And you didn’t bother to tell me!?”

“Oops” Was all the voice said

“I’m heading to Baker Street now, it better still be under my men’s control and I better get to be the one to kill them, if they aren’t already dead.”

“They probably aren’t even there anymore” The voice replied “You have a little mole in your operation. A very sultry, naughty mole” The voice said with almost a hint of delight “Shouldn’t have let Miss Adler in on the plan, seems she does have a tiny bit of feelings for Sherlock. Called him, just before the explosion, gave him a warning. They probably got out”

Sebastian slammed his fist on the dashboard. How could she? How could Irene dare to betray him like this? He thought she cared for him, he thought she was like family, like Jim.

“If they got out my men would have found them and rounded them up. Either way they are on Baker Street.” Sebastian said ending the call.

He again stared out the window the screens of Piccadilly Circus no longer played the video of Jim. Instead it was news casts. Videos of the explosions and the aftermath, the tickers on the bottom reading off the casualty numbers, in the over 200 dead, 400 injured and around 60 missing, and most of that was from the MET.

Sebastian smiled. Jim would have been so proud.

Sebastian found his mind wandering back. Dubai on his first R&R leave of his second tour of Afghanistan, he could have gone anywhere; few of his team had gone to Australia surfing, others to Hong Kong and those with families went home. Sebastian had other plans, plans that both made him excited and nervous. For months he had been chatting online with a very interesting fellow. He shared a lot of Sebastian’s world views and said he had ideas that Sebastian could help him with.

So Sebastian and Jim aka Dublin692 set to meet in Dubai. Jim said he would be there on business. Sebastian had his flights from the Military, Jim would send someone to meet him at the airport and bring him to the hotel.

Sebastian had been hesitant at first; he had never seen Jim in person, just photos sent on private chats and to just meet in a foreign country alone. But Sebastian was a marine, he could handle himself. Besides the potential of danger just made him excited.

Sebastian landed at the Dubai International Airport at noon. Waiting was a large well-dressed body guard looking guy with a sign that read Sebby.

Sebastian smiled and introduced himself. He was escorted to a waiting limo and taken to the Burj Al Arab hotel, also known as the sailboat, and up to the 25th floor, the Royal Suite.

He was taken aback by the lavishness of the place. The suite was larger than his flat and childhood home combined. In fact he was sure that this suite was larger than the entire barracks block back in Afghanistan.

The bold rich colors were so welcoming though. The dining table a dark rich wood surrounded by bright pink, red, orange and yellow chairs with an overlay harlequin pattern. The table was covered in all sorts of food.

A smaller man, slender, short black hair that stood up a little in the front, was sitting at the table.

He looked up as Sebastian entered, he was even more handsome in person, he stood and smiled

“Hello Sebby.” He said his Irish accent and voice were beautiful in Sebastian’s ears.

“Hello, Jimmy” Sebastian replied “I feel a little underdressed” He made a gesture to Jim’s suit that seemed to fit him like a glove.

“Nonsense, you look amazing.” Jim said stepping forward. He put his hand up to Sebastian’s face and gently caressed it before grabbing the back of Sebastian’s neck and pulling him in tight for a kiss.

Sebastian reached up and grabbed Jim’s waist pulling him in tight.

“Let’s forget lunch and see if some of those moves you talked about in the chatroom are as pleasurable in person” Jim said pulling him towards the bedroom.

The oversized, four post king bed sat on a circular pedestal in the off to the one side in the middle of the wall with a small canopy over it. Jim pulled Sebastian onto it and began to undo the buttons of his fatigues. As he peeled off Sebastian’s undershirt Jim paused and studied the body beneath him.

“Damn those pictures you sent did not do you justice.” Jim said leaning down and kissing Sebastian’s stomach and abs.

“You’re wearing too many clothes Jimmy, You want to see what I can do you’re going to have to start stripping” Sebastian smiled

Jim stood and began to unbutton his jacket, he carefully took it off and folded it on the chair beside the bed, trousers, shirt and undershirt followed.

“No pants” Sebastian grinned “Not so prim and proper under the layers”

“I don’t like pant lines under my suits” Jim grinned. Sebastian laughed.

Jim climbed back on Sebastian who had wiggled out of his own pants.

Sebastian gripped Jim’s waist again, tight, and pulled him down tight against his body, burring his face in the crook of Jim’s neck. The smell of mint, ginger, bergamot, juniper, thyme, and vetiver mixed with the subtle sweet musk of human skin filled his nostrils. Sebastian breathed in deeply as he bit down on Jim’s neck enough to bruise but not puncture. Jim giggled.

Sebastian turned and moved Jim onto the bed. He slowly worked his way down Jim’s chest stopping to suck on his nipple.

=-=-=

“Sir we’re here” Dalton said voice snapping Sebastian back to reality.

Sebastian glared at Dalton before looking at the carnage in front of him. The front of 221 Baker Street no longer existed, in its place was a gaping hole giving those outside a glimpse into what was remaining of the sitting area and kitchen.

The canopy from Speedy’s café was gone; bodies and furniture were strewn about.

One of the men approached.

“Sir, there has been some movement in 221. We have watched no one has come out and per your orders we have not gone in.” The man said

“Good, stay here and keep watch, we will be getting company soon” Sebastian said as he took a deep breath.

He would finish this, for Jimmy.

-=-=-=

Mrs. Hudson softly sang to the little bundle in her arm. The landlady was still sitting between Mary and Sherlock; John had placed a sheet over Mary and some towels around her trying to cover the blood. He couldn’t bear to look, not when he had messed up, he could have saved her, why did she pull the shard out? Why did she want to die? He and Sherlock said they would help her.

Mrs. Hudson had sat holding Rosie in her arms, still wrapped in John’s shirt but now also his jumper, just trying to keep the little one warm.

Sherlock had woken again. John just calmly talked as he put a hand on the man’s chest keeping him from trying to sit up. Sherlock had mumbled then passed out again.

John was just going to take Rosie from Mrs. Hudson when he heard the ringing, his mobile, it was over by the mantle, or rather what was left of it and his chair.

He stood and headed over, he bent and picked it up, swaying as he stood, he was getting a little more lightheaded than he had been, perhaps the knock to his head was harder than he initial thought.

“Hello?”

          _“You didn’t call back Doctor Watson” Irene said not even trying to cover the fear and annoyance in her voice._

“I was a little occupied” John said before giving her a brief rundown.

_“I, I am so sorry John. Can you move Sherlock?” Irene asked_

“No not with his neck injury,” John replied “We need to wait till Mycroft sends his men”

         _“You may not have time. The Diogenes, the MET and St. Bart’s were all hit. Sebastian Moran is the widow, if you can call him that, they never married, of Jim Moriarty, he is the one behind this and they have crippled the emergency services and the military, they have just been reactivated but Sebastian is coming for Sherlock.” Irene said “Please you have to get him out of there”_

“We can’t go anywhere the street is barricaded” John said peering out again. A large black military vehicle pulled up and a tall blonde exited the passenger’s seat. “Irene I will call you back, he’s here”

John hung up and turned to Mrs. Hudson.

“Take Rosie into Sherlock’s bedroom and hid behind his bed, take my mobile and try and text everyone in there to see if we can get some help.” John helped her up there was a growing pain in his stomach. “Do not make a sound”

Mrs. Hudson nodded and headed into the bedroom. Rosie fussed but was soon soothed by Mrs. Hudson rocking her as she walked.

John knelt to check on Sherlock again. He was still unconscious. He moved to the mantle again and reached into the small crevice between books. It was empty, Sherlock’s gun was gone. That is where he had last placed it, before they left for Christmas. It was John’s gun they had at Appledore, John’s gun which now set in a lock up somewhere in an office of the government.

The footsteps up the stairs were slow. Not for dramatic effect but rather just a person trying to navigate what was left of the staircase.

John stood between Mary and Sherlock his head pounding. The floorboards in the hallway creaked as a shadow moved on what was left of the room in front of John.

The figure appeared in front of him. The tall blonde just smiled. He was more muscular than John remembered but the face was still the same a boyish smile with a gleam in his eye that was enough to convey how dangerous he really was.

“Hello Captain Watson, forgive me if I don’t salute, I’ve always had a problem with superior officers” Sebastian smiled

“You seemed to have no problem taking orders in bed” John said his gaze hard.

“Well I was desperate” Sebastian replied “Too bad you never shared Riley, bet he was amazing.”

“You don’t get to talk about Riley!” John said anger rising in his voice “You have no right, especially after what you did to him, to me”

“Oh what’s a couple of bullets in shoulders” Sebastian laughed

“You killed him!” John yelled drawing an unnoticed wince from Sherlock.

“Oh yeah was aiming for his arm and his head got in the way” Sebastian laughed again.

John fumed as Sebastian looked at Sherlock and Mary on the floor.

“Went after that asshole former commander of ours too, Sholto. You were one of his favorites, you and Riley, you would do anything for him, and he would reward you handsomely” Sebastian smirked aiming his gun at John. “It was fun leading those Afghan forces against Sholto, didn’t get to kill him, was upset at first, then I watched him being roasted in the media, was even better then death.” Sebastian kicked Sherlock’s foot drawing a moan from the man “Ah he is alive”

“Leave him alone” John shouted.

“Oh what?” Sebastian said looking up at John who was now leaning over Mary’s body holding onto the table for support. “That your wife under the linen? Wasn’t she knocked up?”

“Yes, but you killed them” John replied.

“And where’s you landlady? I hear she’s a real firecracker” Sebastian replied looking around.

“She lives downstairs, my guess is she is dead too, elderly lady surviving a blast like that is highly unlikely” John said pushing himself to a standing position.

“Pity I hear she makes good tea” Sebastian said stepping over Sherlock’s feet to stand in front of John he gave him a push.

John mustered his strength to remain standing. Sebastian just giggled and pushed him again.

“This is fun, you’re like one of those blow up weighted punching balloons people buy for kids” Sebastian laughed as he pushed John again sending the shorter man swaying.

John balled his fist up tightly and locked eyes with Sebastian.

“Get out of my house!” John said before his fist connected with Sebastian’s jaw.

Sebastian staggered back, more out of shock than the strength of the hit.

“You really want to start this John?” Sebastian asked straightening up, dropping the gun to the ground an assuming a fighting stance “Boxing, kickboxing and hand to hand, just like we used to do for fun on base.”

From the bedroom came a faint tiny cry.

Sebastian looked at the door then down at Mary’s body, he moved the cloth over her lower half to reveal the blood.

“When I am done with you I am taking out the child then I will revel in the sweet reward of killing Sherlock” Sebastian said as he charged at John.


	9. Those Left Behind: Loved and Lost

Mrs. Hudson pulled Rosie close and rocked her, the little one just kept fussing. Mrs. Hudson tried to quietly hum.

She heard the yelling, John and another male; she heard the banging, fighting, and then the silence.

Rosie fussed again and the footsteps started down the hall.

Mrs. Hudson looked at the mobile phone in her hand she had text everyone in John’s contact list and no one had responded.

She reached up into Sherlock’s bedside table looking for anything she could use to defend her and the little one in her arms.

Her hand touched something cold, a gun, she carefully removed Sherlock’s revolver and held it close as the door opened.

=-=-=-=-=

John lay on the kitchen floor, the world around him spinning, in a fair fight he may have been able to hold out longer against an opponent such as Sebastian but not today.

Sebastian made easy work of bringing John down, he took out his legs then a punch to the solar plexus had John reeling.

John had turned and threw up, blood now running from the side of his mouth confirmed his worst fear, he was bleeding internally, probably had been since the initial explosion, then the last blow from Sebastian made it worse.

He could hear the bedroom door open, Rosie fussing, Mrs. Hudson yelling, he heard the gunshot the scream and the thud, then it was quiet, save for a far off siren and a helicopter in the distance.

The calvary was coming, John though, but as he closed his eyes he believed that it was too late.

=-=-=-=

Sebastian stared at the growing stain of blood. It didn’t hurt much; He’d been shot before and knew that if it wasn’t hurting then he was in shock.

Shock, understatement, yeah his body was in shock from the trauma is sustained, but also shocked at how he came to have the bleeding wound in his chest.

The old lady knew how to handle a gun. She was scared when he entered but her hands were steady, the shot rang out before he could even reach the bed.

The pain hit first, Sebastian just looked down at the hole in his chest and the blood spreading and staining his shirt.

He got cocky, he assumed the baby was alone; he assumed he could just walk in and snap the child in two before going back to the front and killing Sherlock.

But there she was the old landlady gun in hand and now he was the one bleeding, the one probably dying.

He didn’t fall over, wasn’t like it was in the movies, gun goes off blood sprays and the victim goes flying. No in all the times Sebastian got shot he never fell. For arm or leg her would grab something and wrap it around the wound. The time he got shot in the hip in Lebanon Jimmy was with him; Jimmy got him sitting and took care of him.

Jimmy wasn’t here though, now Sebastian was all alone leaning on the wall slowly sliding down as his blood seeped out of him.

Sirens wailed in the distance, the sound was sharp and it hurt Sebastian’s ears.

There was a helicopter too, noises in the front room and a man in all black tactical gear standing over him.

No this was not how today was supposed to go; this was not how he was supposed to die.

The government operative moved away from Sebastian and went to the landlady and the baby and started checking them over.

Sebastian turned and looked down the hall into the kitchen. John and Sherlock were hooked to IVs and were being treated and moved onto stretchers, John was lifted up first as the paramedics where working on getting a collar on Sherlock and a backboard under him.

Sebastian tried to scream at the paramedic but nothing came out of his mouth, his voice wasn’t cooperating. He tried to push himself up but nothing was listening.

A second government operative and a paramedic came to stand before him as the landlady and baby were led out.

Sebastian tried to fight them but the dark void took hold.

=-=-=-=-=-=

Jim Moriarty sat at the desk looking out the window, the bright blue waters of the νοτιο στενο κερκυρας (notio steno kerkyras) the small gap in the Ionian Sea that separated Corfu from mainland Greece.

It was calm and beautiful. He looked over at Sebastian sleeping in bed. He looked so peaceful when he slept, so calm.

Jim looked back down at the paper in front of him. He hadn’t managed to write much.

          _My dearest Sebastian_

_I know that you are probably furious with me for stealing your passport. I hope you will forgive me. I know you wanted to be with me on this trip. I know you have unfinished business with John Watson. But I don’t want you to see what I have to do. I want you to remember me the way I am when you last see me before your mission. Forgive Irene for helping me, she will tell you more when you see her._

_I love you, Sebastian, more then you will ever know, and this is why I have to do this._

_Yours forever_

_Jimmy_

He sealed the letter in an envelope marked “For when I am in London”. He looked down at the stack of paper again began writing this letter was harder this letter held more truth then Jim had ever told in his life. When he was done he sealed it in a second envelope this one mark “For when I am gone”. Jim stood and headed to the main office of the hotel.

Irene was at her desk looking over papers. She glanced up as Jim entered.

“You’re off to London then?” She asked

“Yeah. Seb will be leaving for his little journey in the morning. Private plane private airfield, no passport needed. When he goes to try and head to London though he’ll notice it’s not in his gear” Jimmy said laying the passport on Irene’s desk along with the envelopes.

Irene looked at them.

“For when you are.. Jim what are you going to do?” She asked with worry.

“What I have to do. Before things get worse I need to do this” Jim said starring down at his feet

“You are the greatest criminal mind in the world, and you’re going to be reducing yourself to this?” Irene said standing and walking over to Jim “This is not the Jim I met, not the man who put fear into me and into Sherlock Holmes.”

“I am still me just diminished” Jim replied walking away from her and starring out the window. “And I want to go out on my own terms while I still can”

“You should tell Sebastian now, don’t leave him to find out later, after” Irene started

“You want to argue with me?!” Jim said eyes hardening voice rising.

Irene flinched “No, no argument sir, do as you please I will follow your instructions”

“Good”

Jim turned and left, he headed to London, broke into the crown jewels. Everything went even better than planned, and on top of that roof of St. Bartholomew’s Hospital he left the world, on his own terms.

 

=-=-=-=-=-=

Sebastian sat in front of Irene’s desk, newspaper in hand. Caption read: **Moriarty Was Real, Criminal Mastermind Dead, Self-inflicted Gun Wound to the Head**.

For nearly a year the world believed that Jim was Richard Brook and innocent man killed by Sherlock Holmes. Then the papers started changing the story and Jim/Richard was simply referred to as Moriarty, they barely used his given name. Newspapers praised Sherlock, and continued to mourn his death. There had been no outpouring of grief, no public mourning of Jimmy, even as Richard, just a notation he was dead.

The newspapers talked about what Sherlock left behind, a brother, parents, and friends. No one mentioned who Jimmy left behind.

Sebastian looked at the ring on the chain around his neck. They joked about marriage, but Sebastian never got the chance to ask Jimmy. Why did no one care who Jimmy left behind? Why celebrate Sherlock?

Sebastian stayed in Greece; barely leaving his room, then after a year another paper arrived: **Sherlock Holmes Alive, Great Detective Fakes Death to Save London From Mad Man Moriarty**.

Sebastian fumed. Jimmy had died for nothing.

Then the phone rang and the voice and the plan started. Sebastian looked at the unopened letter in his pocket. _“For When I am Gone”_ After Sherlock and his entire circle were dead, maybe then he could bring himself to finally read the letter.


	10. Aftermath: University College Hospital

Molly looked around the room, she had never been in a private ICU before and wasn’t even aware that the hospital had one. She wasn’t even sure if she was qualified to be in even a normal ICU, but she guessed on orders from Anthea all were to be kept together under guard.

Anthea was in a chair sitting next to Mycroft, He was asleep. What remained of his leg was in small brace and was propped up on some pillows. Mycroft himself was slightly reclined, a large bruise spread across his forehead. Anthea had said something about him having surgery to repair a tear in his intestines caused by a piece of shrapnel.

Greg was in the bed next to Mycroft. He was on a ventilator; the bullet had torn though his stomach causing a lot of damage that thankfully had all been fixed. He’d broken his hip as well, that had been surgically repaired and splinted as well, and there was extensive damage as he had walked on it after it was broken. Adrenaline could do that though. His eyes were bruises as was his nose; Anthea said he had a pretty nasty concussion as well.

Sherlock was across from Greg, his neck in a rigid brace. They had performed a cervical fusion to repair the broken vertebra in his neck. Normally they would use a halo brace on top of the fusion but with Sherlock also sustaining a broken shoulder blade, broken ribs, and a concussion the halo would do more damage than good. Instead a cervical brace was used.

John was next to Sherlock. He’d been on the operating table for quite a long time. He’d been bleeding internally for some time his liver, spleen, and gallbladder had all been damaged. He no longer had his spleen or gallbladder and only had about half his liver left.

The shock to Mrs. Hudson had been when they were told that John had a fractured skull. She asked how he could have been moving around and doing everything he had been.

The answer was simple. Adrenaline. John was running on pure adrenaline, probably felt nothing but a headache and some discomfort in his stomach and abdomen.

Mrs. Hudson cried at hearing that.

“John could have died and all he did was care about everyone else”

“That’s what he does” Anthea had replied giving her a hug.

Rosie was in a bassinet between Sherlock and John. She was given a clean bill of health.

Molly looked down at her chest, she seemed to get off easy. Her operation was relatively quick compared to the other, a plate on her sternum to help it heal, the saw hit the bone and stopped but it cracked the bone straight though from top to bottom. Stitches closed up the wound. Her legs had some burns on them but they weren’t too bad and there were no grafts needed.

Anthea had even been in theatre longer than her, plating put on her ribs to keep the shifted bones from moving more and causing further damage.

It was hard seeing everyone just laid out. Molly and Anthea could move to chairs for sitting if they preferred. Molly found it hurt too much to sit so just reclined in bed, watching the others

Three days had passed since the explosions and they were still digging bodies out of all the wreckage sites. 372 dead at the MET alone, so many of the names sounded familiar to Molly, but the ones that hit the hardest were Dyson, Macintyre, Foyle and Donovan. They were ones who worked many of the major crimes she dealt with as well. Many more were administrative support that worked in the records keeping as those floors had sustained the most damage.

St. Bart’s had lost some doctors and the entire reception area of the pathology building was gone. Molly teared up at the thought of never seeing Jessica Lane’s holiday decorations again. She always went all out Halloween, Christmas, Easter, even New Years; she had actually been starting to decorate for Chinese New Year when the blast happened.

There were many dead on Baker Street, mostly those in Speedy’s and the building next door. Mrs. Hudson was very happy to hear that Mrs. Turner and her married ones had been out at the time of the attack.

The Diogenes had the least collateral damage. Most of the rooms were reinforced for defense against such attacks, so just the office and the panic room were damaged.

Mummy and Daddy Holmes had come; Dad sat between Mycroft and Greg while Mum sat between Sherlock and John. There was a silent understanding that they were all going to be there for John when he awoke, would he remember what happened? How would he react to Mary being dead?

Mrs. Hudson said he blamed himself, but all knew the truth that is wasn’t the case.

Molly teared up, all this death all this destruction all from the anger of one man and all born from revenge. She knew revenge could be a powerful thing but this, this was beyond comprehension.

Molly wiped her eyes as she heard the click of heels on tile flooring, coming near the entrance to the room. She heard voices. A man entered and went to Anthea who looked shocked but carefully got up and headed to the door. There was more discussion before Anthea returned followed by another woman, she was beautiful.

Her dark hair hung in curls framing her face and making her skin seem like it was flawless porcelain, her blue eyes and red lips stood out in contrast to her fairer skin.

Molly knew who she was; John had described her once, Irene Adler, the only one who ever really beat Sherlock Holmes, and according to Mrs. Hudson the one who saved them.

Irene looked around the room and then went to Sherlock. She leaned in and gently kissed his forehead, this drew a raised eyebrow from Mummy Holmes.

“Forgive me Mrs. Holmes, My name is Irene Adler. You son helped me with a very delicate situation a few years ago” Irene said offering her hand to Mummy Holmes.

“It is alright dear; it’s just that we were under the impression that you were dead.” Mummy Holmes replied “Although we are learning that in Sherlock’s circle that doesn’t really mean anything” Mummy Holmes gave a small smile that was mirrored by Irene

“Yes well circumstances beyond my control led to that being necessary.” Irene said sitting in a chair next to Mummy Holmes. “Your son is very special and I am sorry this had to happen to any of them. I blame myself really, but After James Moriarty killed himself on the roof of St. Bartholomew’s I thought I was free from the hold I was under. His lover, Sebastian Moran however was still around and very volatile, he’d lost everything when Moriarty died. I barely saw him for nearly a year, then he started receiving many calls from England and I, I was curious, and I listened in, He was making plans with a woman to end Sherlock. I didn’t hear much as the woman was somehow aware that they were being listened to. Sebastian just thought it was a maid and thought nothing more of it. When Sebastian didn’t return to Greece after his last trip up to Kuwait I got suspicious and I went to his room. I found everything, the plans the blueprints of the buildings. So I called. I just wish I had done more sooner.” Irene said eyes tearing up

Mummy Holmes reached over and took her hand

“It’s ok. You did what you could” she said giving Irene’s hand a squeeze.

“Thank you.” Irene replied looking over at Rosie in her bassinet sleeping “She’s beautiful”

“Would you like to hold her?” Mummy asked

“Oh, no, no, I’m not really good with children.” Irene said standing “I shouldn’t stay too long.” She handed Mummy a card “Please call me when they wake, I would like to talk to them”

“Of course” Mummy Holmes said

Irene stopped at Anthea

“Please do not punish Sherlock for saving me. I really gave him no choice” Irene said reaching in her pocket. She turned and walked back to Sherlock’s bedside. “Give him this to read when he is able”

Mummy Holmes just nodded as Irene turned and left.

“She seems nice” Daddy Holmes spoke up. Mummy just smiled.

Molly just watched the woman leave. She said something that had made Molly start thinking.

All this wasn’t just out of revenge it was an act of lost love. Molly started tearing up again; this revelation of lost love just made the whole situation a lot sadder


	11. Sherrinford

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so this is now where the writing started after s4 aired and now I'm still going to do things my way

Sebastian blinked his eyes against the lights. Slowly his surroundings came into focus. He wasn’t dead, he was in a hospital, an institutional one, no windows a guard at the foot of the bed.

This was different then a prison hospital, there were no rows of beds, and he wasn’t even chained to the bed. He really didn’t need to be. His whole body ached, and the mere act of trying to raise his hand to scratch his nose was like atlas trying to lift the world high. He was weaker than a kitten.

He sluggishly lifted his head to look himself over.

He had a few tubes going into his torso and a rather large bandage. IVs in both arms and bruises as well.

He stared up at the ceiling, perhaps he hadn’t failed, just because the paramedics arrived didn’t mean that John and Sherlock had survived. How long had he been out? They could already have been long dead and buried, the child shipped off to relatives, Sebastian honestly didn’t see Mycroft raising a child.

The door opened and the guard exited as another person entered, a woman all in white, perhaps a nurse? The woman walked up next to the bed. Her dark wavy hair was long and hung to mid chest; she gave him an unsettling smile as she approached.

“Hello Sebastian” She said, the voice, it was the one from the phone. “I am afraid you failed. They are all going to live, they will take a long time to heal but Gregory, Mycroft, Molly, John, Sherlock, even Mrs. Hudson and Anthea all will live.”

“I killed Mary” Sebastian croaked out, his throat was so dry.

“Not really much stock in that though is there?” The woman said running her hand up his arm, she was cold “That just paves the way for Sherlock and John to become a happy little family with the baby”

“John will still be haunted by it, that he couldn’t save his wife, mother of his child. Every time he looks at the little one he’ll remember” Sebastian said as the woman dug around in the bedside table.

“A mere consolation prize” She replied “It’s alright though, Jim and I made other plans as well”

She took out the crumpled but still sealed envelope from the table.

“For When I am Gone” She read “Couldn’t even write dead. Never pegged him for the sentimental type really, but he was starting to fade from his former madness and glory near the end”

“Put that down” Sebastian said trying to sit.

“I think it’s about time you heard his words Sebastian.” The woman said with an eldritch smile

“No, no” He said, she just turned a dial on his medication

“Just a muscle relaxer makes it so you can’t do much” She said as she tore the end of the envelope and slid out the letter.

          _My Dearest Sebastian, My M’fhíorghrá_

“Oh isn’t that just adorable, pet names, it’s even in Irish”

          _When you are reading this I will be dead._

“Oh how cliché Mr. Moriarty”

          _I apologize again for leaving you stranded without a passport. I can’t stress enough to you how important it was that you were not in London. I went there knowing that I was going to die, either by Sherlock’s hand or my own. I have to do this Sebby; I have to go out on my own terms. Remember when we were in Lagos and I was ill. My balance was off and I was well really not myself. We pegged it down to heat and the food. I wish that were so. While you were off in Namibia and I was in Egypt I passed out, I was taken to a hospital and I was sent for numerous tests. There was a shadow on the CT scan. So I traveled back to Greece and saw Dr. Armitage and he did more testing. I have a brain tumor Sebby. It’s inoperable. Manageable to a point with medication but the prognosis is not good. It’s malignant, so it will spread, I was given a year, but after a few months I will be diminished. But I need to finish what I started with Sherlock. Please forgive me. If I had known this when I went to the Tower I probably just would have led him there and killed him._

_I don’t want you to have to watch me die, either by illness or by gun. When I met you in that chat room I was just looking for a little fun. Some dirty talk to get off to, to blow off steam while I worked. But there was something about you. You weren’t just some all brawn no brain marine. You shared so many of the same world views as me. So I took the leap, I invited you to Dubai, for all I knew you were a government agent and were going to take me in or take me out._

_When you walked into that hotel room, I froze, I never freeze, but you were, and are perfect. And over the years you have become my second half. You see me the real me, all side of me. The madman, the criminal, the genius, the lover and I even let you see my soft side. No one but my mother saw that, and that was hard for me to show, I have a reputation you know. People can’t know that the Great Jim Moriarty likes to cuddle and watch sappy romantic movies on a rainy Sunday. And that’s not because I am ashamed of it. It is because it is not for everyone to see or know, the me you got to know is me as a whole. For personal and not for public, the world knew the mad man, but you knew me._

_I am hated in society, and I don’t care. I have always lived my life my way and on my own terms. This is why I am going to die now, and why you will not be there to see it._

_What you do after I am gone is entirely up to you. You can take OUR organization and do with it what you will. You can retire; go back to Bawnboy, everything I have is left to you. But please keep living; don’t let my death end you. You are so vibrant and full of life don’t let my being gone diminish you._

_Let Irene go; don’t hold her to my agreements anymore. She has done so much for us it’s time we let her have a life._

_Please forgive me Sebby, and just know, I love you, now forever and always._

_Your Mo shíorghrá_

_Jimmy_

The woman folded the paper and looked at Sebastian, tears streaking down his cheeks.

“Jimmy was quite lovely wasn’t he? I got to meet him in his prime.” She said the unnerving smile returning.  “He was my Christmas gift a few years ago. We made plans. He would help me get my revenge”

“Your revenge?” Sebastian croaked out.

“Yes, on my brothers.” The woman said pulling the letter down and taking Sebastian’s right hand in hers “Margaret Eurus Anastasia Holmes” She smiled “But please call me Eurus”

“You’re, you’re a Holmes?” Sebastian said trying to pull his hand away but she gripped it tight.

“Yes, the youngest, locked up for the crime of being smarter. And perhaps a murder” She smiled the same eldritch smile as before. “Moriarty had such confidence in you. I see it was misplaced.

She let his hand go and removed the pillow from beneath his head.

Sebastian tried to move away but his body wouldn’t listen.

“Don’t worry Moriarty and I had a plan in motion already, but now it will have to wait, they need to heal for it for to be really fun” Eurus smiled

“I can help” Sebastian said

Eurus frowned

“No you are too emotional and that was your downfall, great plans but too much emotion.” She said lowing the pillow onto his face “Don’t worry though; you and Jimmy will be together soon. You can enjoy hell together. Do give him my regards”

Eurus pushed the pillow down tight and moved her hands on top pushing down on Sebastian’s face, his arms twitched slightly the drugs in his system really didn’t allow him the strength to fight back. His feet kicked a little too before his body settled.

Eurus removed the pillow and looked at Sebastian’s face. The petechial hemorrhaging in his eyes was quite apparent. Eurus smiled

“I do good work” She smiled before turning to the door. “I am done; I’d like to go back to my cell now you can come clean up”

The door opened and she made her way back to her cell.

Silly brother Mycroft, just leaving her here, only checking up on her when he felt like it, she practically ran this prison now, and long had been plotting against her big brothers. But that could all wait now. They had healing to do. Games aren’t fun if the players are hurt. She’d give them time, let life get back to normal, and then she would make her move.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> M’fhíorghrá (MEER-ggrah) My true love, Mo shíorghrá (muh HEER-ggrah) My eternal love


	12. Aftermath: Guilt and Confusion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay in posting. work has been hectic and I haven't had a lot of writing or editing time.  
> hopefully it evens out soon.
> 
> wish fan fiction paid the bills lol.

Sherlock stared up at the ceiling, the same wood fiber ceiling tiles found in hospitals everywhere, even the shabby little aid station in Serbia where Mycroft took Sherlock for a quick check over even had them.

So he was in a hospital. He body had the familiar numb feeling of being on a morphine drip for pain. Really morphine after he almost overdosed, the doctors were taking chances. Then again all he remembered was a blast and bits of conversation here and there. Perhaps not being able to feel was a good thing.

There was something hard around his neck, he tried to move it to turn his head but he could not, he tried to raise his left hand to see what was preventing this but it wouldn’t move either, it was held against him. His right hand was just as bad, it would move but not as fast as he would have liked it.

Before it reached his neck he saw another hand in his peripheral vision reach over and take it, too small for John’s, then he saw his mother’s face come into view.

“Hello Sherlock” she said leaning in and kissing his forehead “Do you remember what happened?”

“Explosion” He replied, his voice sounded so different, hoarse and weak.

“Yes, there was a bomb at Baker Street” Mummy said before explaining his injuries

“John, Mrs. Hudson, Mary?” Sherlock asked struggling to get his voice to cooperate

“Don’t rush speaking love; there is still some swelling in your neck. John is in the bed beside you, Martha is feeing Rosie” Mummy started

“Rosie?” Sherlock asked cutting Mummy off before she could mention Mary.

“Rosamund Alice Martha Watson” Mummy smiled “She was born in what’s left of your kitchen”

Sherlock gave a small smile. “Is John alright, I heard him talking telling me not to move.”

Mummy explained Sherlock’s face fell.

“Will, will he be alright?” Sherlock asked with worry.

 

“He will heal, there is some swelling in his head, but no damage to his brain beyond a concussion, they’ve done some scans and he will heal, may have lingering headaches but no other lasting effects.” Mummy replied as Sherlock tried to sit. “No sitting yet and they are keeping John asleep the swelling is almost gone, when it is they will let him wake up. It’s going to be very hard for him; there is a lot for him to deal with.”

“I thought you said he would be fine, just headaches?” Sherlock said furrowing his brow.

Mummy took and deep breath and moved to sit on the edge of his bed. She held his hand tight in hers.

“Mary died shortly after giving birth to Rosie” She said

“Oh” was all Sherlock could manage.

“She hid an injury from the blast, a piece of shrapnel that pierced her side, her only thoughts were giving birth to a healthy baby” Mummy said

“She knew she wouldn’t make it” Mrs. Hudson said coming into view, she had Rosie in her arms. “Her last words to John were for you and he to raise the child together”

Sherlock was confused, why would she think that? Yes he cared for John, deeply, he loved him, he loved him from the day he walked into the lab at St. Bart’s. But John didn’t feel that way, John loved Mary, John married Mary.

A sharp pain hit Sherlock’s chest, it didn’t alarm him, he’d had them before, when anxiety took over, when his mind was working too fast for his body, happened during cases and was happening now as he was processing what Mary’s last words were. Did she mean as friends? Did she mean together?

When this happened before he would turn, first to drugs, but then to music, he wasn’t going to be playing the violin any time soon.

Mummy leaned down and kissed his forehead as she saw the pain in his face.

“Just take a deep breath in honey, then let it out” She rubbed his check as he did “I know it’s a lot to take in. Deep breathe sweetheart. There we go”

Sherlock focused on his breathing, in and out, in and out and the pain in his chest started to fade. Mummy pressed the button on the drip and soon Sherlock was sleeping again.

 

Rosie fussed. Mrs. Hudson began to rock her again as a soft moan came from across the room.

Mummy Holmes looked up, Mycroft was stirring.

Daddy Holmes and Anthea both stood. As Mycroft’s eyes opened, he had stirred a few times in the last few days but this was the first time he opened his eyes.

“Hello Myc” Daddy said as Mycroft scanned the room.

“Where’s Greg?” Mycroft asked voice hoarse from no use.

“In the next bed” Daddy said, as Anthea went to get water.

“He is alive. Is he alright?” He said trying to sit

“Yes he is alive, and he will heal. It’s just going to take a while” Daddy Holmes

“He’s on a ventilator” Mycroft said looking over his father’s shoulder.

“Yes, but his breathing has been improving so he may be off it soon” Daddy replied as Mycroft teared up.

“I, I thought I lost him” Mycroft softly said “I chased him off when all this Magnusson business started, I didn’t want him getting caught up, and then they said the MET had been hit as well.” Mycroft stopped voice caught in his throat. “I can’t lose him”

“And you won’t” Daddy said as Anthea returned with the water. “When he wakes, you can sort everything out and make it better.”

“Where is my jacket?” Mycroft asked with agitation as Anthea tried to get him to drink some water.

“In the closet with everyone’s clothes” Anthea said

“I need it” Mycroft said trying to get up. He paused and looked down at his legs. “They didn’t take as much as I thought they would” He said before he drifted to sleep again

Anthea helped Daddy Holmes get him settled again, her side was not as sore as it had been and she was glad to be a bit more independent and mobile.

“He took the loss of limb rather well” Anthea said giving Daddy Holmes a smile.

“For now, I have seen where it doesn’t fully hit a person until the rehabilitation                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                  phase starts”   Daddy Holmes replied as he went to the closet to find Mycroft’s jacket. They were going to send everything to laundry but hadn’t got around to it yet.

Daddy took the box labeled with Mycroft’s name and removed the jacket.                         As he turned to take it over to his son’s bed a small bag fell onto the floor. Daddy bent down and picked it up, the black velvet bag was embossed with silver lettering BVLGARI.

“It’s a ring” Anthea spoke up “it’s a single band sterling silver ring with black ceramic. It’s from the save the children line. He figured if he’s going to ask Greg to marry him, he should help a charity at the same time”

Mummy and Daddy smiled. They knew deep down their so called little iceman had a caring heart.

Groans from the far bed made everyone stop and look. John was stirring, he shouldn’t be, he was still on the propofol drip meant to keep him asleep. Mummy stood from where she was still on Sherlock’s bed and went to him, as Molly carefully made her way to check his IVs.

“It’s ok John, you are in the hospital” Mummy Holmes said taking his hand in hers. John groaned eyes twitched wanting to open. “It’s ok John, You don’t have to force yourself if your body isn’t ready.”

John made a slight chocking noise, molly hit his call button.

“You have a tube down your throat, don’t fight it.” Mummy Holmes continued as she reached up and brushed his cheek. “You were quite injured in the blast, despite you walking around, hopped up on adrenaline. The doctors wanted to let you sleep to heal”

John’s mouth moved he was trying to talk but instead choked again.

Mummy Holmes just silently talked trying to reassure John.

The doctor entered and examined him.

“He’s a very stubborn man to be fighting the medication like this” The doctor said adjusting the machine that controlled the drip. “I don’t really want to up the dose, but I am going to remove the breathing tube, we don’t need him choking and his breathing is strong enough.”

Mummy nodded as the doctor and nurse removed the tube which caused John to cough and wince at the pain it caused in his head.

“It’s ok John, You’re ok” Mummy Holmes said holding his hand again. John slowly settled again as Mummy started to hum.

Molly went and sat back in her bed.

She really shouldn’t be here, she felt like she was prying in on the lives of her friends. Anthea had said it was for their security, they didn’t know if Moran had anyone else out there working with him. It had been nearly a week since the blast and no one had made any moves. Moran’s little army had been dismantled, either killed in confrontation with the military or taken into custody. Anthea said that Moran himself was locked in a high security facility specially designed for criminals like him.

Daddy Holmes came and sat next to her.

“How are you Molly dear?”

“Me, I’m alright, healing.” Molly said “I’m sorry to be an intrusion on your family”

“You are no intrusion, you are a friend of Sherlock and John’s and of Greg, and you are a very valuable part of their lives” Daddy Holmes said with a smile. “I know they feel horrible that you were injured as well” Daddy Holmes continued as he helped Molly settle.

“They shouldn’t, they need to focus on themselves and healing and little Rosie.” Molly replied

“They will have a lot of help with little Rosie. That’s what Grandparent do, and Mrs. Hudson will be helping too” Daddy Holmes smiled.

Molly just nodded. She didn’t know where they would even live; everyone else had been attacked at their place of work, for Sherlock and John that was home. Baker Street was everything to them. Mrs. Hudson had been allowed to move into a hotel but still even if they were able to rebuild 221 Baker Street, would they want to go back?

Daddy Holmes started to hum, the same tune Mummy had been humming to John. You’re my Best Friend by Queen, Molly couldn’t help but smile, John had mentioned once that it was their wedding song. It had come on the radio in the lab and instead of turning the radio down like he often did Sherlock turned it up. John said he always did that as it was his parent wedding song and one of the first lullabies he remembered his mother singing to him.

Mrs. and Mr. Holmes were so sweet and caring, and very nurturing. Molly almost giggled at how both must have the patience of a saint to handle Mycroft and Sherlock as they grew. And she didn’t even know their names. Everyone just called them Mum or Dad, even Anthea. It was just that parental instinct and quality. Molly was sure she had heard Mrs. Hudson call them Beth and Thomas but she wasn’t entirely too sure. Even when she tried calling them Mr. and Mrs. Holmes Molly had been corrected that Mum and Dad were just fine to use.

Molly was still close to her own parents and made a mental note that she would have to introduce them to the Holmes’s. They would get along famously.

Molly tried to stifle a yawn but her own last rounds of pain medications were starting to kick in and soon she was off in dreamland.

-=-=-

The clock was just about to strike midnight when the screams woke the room.

John was awake and in the middle of what seemed like a violent nightmare.

There were cries of pain and shouts of no.

Sherlock jolted away by the screams tried to sit up only to have Daddy place a reassuring hand on his chest as Mummy went and sat on the bed next to John.

She took her hand in his and gently shook his shoulder.

“John, John dear you need to open your eyes, you are fine, you are not in Helmand or Kandahar, You are in the University Hospital Euston Rd, Fitzrovia, London” Mummy Holmes said calmly. John’s eyes opened, Mummy smiled “Hello John”

“Sherlock?” John quietly asked

“In the bed next to you.” Mummy replied explaining his injuries “He was awake a few times yesterday, I even got him to eat”

“Got him to eat, really, what’s your secret?” John almost laughed

“I’m his mother” Mummy smiled, John gave a weak smile. “And you are going to be fine, bit of bleeding then scaring us all with a fractured skull and internal bleeding, a walking wounded”

“Oh, sorry” John quietly said looking down “I, guess I’m not that good of a doctor, can’t recognize my own head injury and couldn’t save my wife”

John winced and gave a small groan.

“You did everything you could for Mary, Martha said it was Mary’s choice” Mummy Holmes calmly said and she placed a hand on John’s shoulder

“Move me by him” Sherlock said from the bed behind Mummy.

Daddy Holmes tried to explain that Sherlock was not allowed out of bed yet but the consulting detective was being stubborn.

John took a deep breath and pushed himself to a sitting position. A wave a pain and nausea and pain hit him, but he pushed on, much to the protests of Mummy Holmes, Once he swung his feet over the edge of the bed she gave up stopping him and shifted to helping him, making sure his IV bag and line didn’t get pulled out. John weakly shuffled across the small gap between the beds and started to climb up next to Sherlock.

Mummy and daddy helped him up careful not to jostle him, Sherlock, or their IVs.

Sherlock moved his good arm and wrapped it around John.

“I’m am a horrible person” John weakly said

“No” Sherlock replied.

“My wife is dead and all I can think about is now I can finally tell you the truth.” John whispered.

“Oh” Sherlock asked

“I love you Sherlock, from the time I laid eyes on you in the lab. I was a fool for not saying it sooner.” John exclaimed tears forming in his eyes.

“I, I love you too” Sherlock said “From the minute you locked eyes with me in the lab. It was solidified when you shot the cabbie” Sherlock smiled

John weakly smiled “People will talk”

“People talk already, don’t you go on social media?” Sherlock gave a soft laugh. “We’ll rebuild Baker Street, add a nursery and you me and Rosie against the world”

“You will accept my daughter as your own?” John asked

“Of course, and you should see her, she looks like you” Sherlock said as Mummy brought the little one over.

She laid her on Sherlock’s chest; Rosie’s eyes opened and looked right at John.

“Hello Sweetie, Daddy is here daddy will protect you” John softly said “Papa is here too” He smiled looking up and Sherlock who smiled back.

John’s eyes started to close, he was so tired.

Sherlock gently hummed and soon John was asleep.

Sherlock looked up at the doctor who had entered to check John neared the bed.

“If it is at all possible please allow him to stay in this bed with me. It is of no discomfort to me. Of course if it’s is a detriment to him then of course he should be moved to his own bed.” Sherlock said

“He needs his own bed, he shouldn’t be on his side and he actually shouldn’t even be awake. Meds should have still had him out cold” The doctor said as aids and a nurse came to move John back to his own bed.

That proved more difficult than they thought. John weak as he was had a tight grip on Sherlock’s arm. It took some coaxing but soon John released his grip and was moved to his own bed and settled again.

“There is a pink reclining chair with foot rest over by my brother, I want that moved here by John’s bed and I wish to be moved to recline in it as it is the same are reclining in this bed” Sherlock demanded.

“I don’t” the doctor started

“I am due to start physio in the morning one of the first things they will do is move he to a fully sitting position this will be easier for everyone involved if it is done using the chair. So since the aides are already here and they are trained to move patients like me, they can do it while they are here.” Sherlock said.

The doctor sighed, Sherlock was right; he had been warned about what it was like having Sherlock Holmes as a patient. The aides moved the chair then moved Sherlock into it.

“And Rosie’s bassinet can come over here too, she should be by her fathers” Sherlock replied

The nurse nodded and Rosie was moved.

Sherlock took John’s hand in his.

“I should have never let you get away in the first place.” Sherlock whispered “All you went though, I should have let you in, and I shouldn’t have lied about the death, I should have let you know sooner, I am so sorry John”

Mummy Holmes reached up and dabbed a tear away from Sherlock’s eye.

“it’s all going to be ok” She said

“Not right away, I know John, I know he’s going to have a hard time dealing with everything, processing it all” Sherlock replied

“And you will be there every step, helping.” Mummy said gently kissing his forehead.

Sherlock just closed his eyes, if he could have nodded he would have.

He looked across the room, Greg still unconscious tube down throat.

“Will Lestrade be alright?” Sherlock asked

“He’s getting stronger.” Daddy Holmes spoke up. “They were confident enough to remove the heart monitor this morning, and they think the ventilator tube will be out in a day or so.”

“Good, Mycroft deserves to be happy” Sherlock gave a small smile.

Mummy Holmes smiled and kissed Sherlock’s forehead again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the ring Mycroft Bought Greg
> 
> [](http://s357.photobucket.com/user/MORRISONJANE/media/SavetheChildren-Rings-BVLGARI-346090-E-1_v01.png.html)


	13. Carry On

Mycroft gently eased himself in to the chair. The nurse had been kind enough to help him over. Mycroft just wanted to be close to Greg. The Ventilator had been removed all that was left was for Greg to wake up.

It had been two weeks since the explosions and everyone was awake. John and Sherlock had both started physio, Mycroft had done a little but didn’t want to be gone from the room for extended periods of time. He didn’t want to be so far from the man he almost lost.

Greg’s fingers started to twitch; Mycroft raised Greg’s hand to his lips and gave his fingers a gentle kiss.

“It’s alright Gregory; you are going to be alright. I am here” Mycroft said softly.

Greg’s eyes slowly opened. Blinked a few times and stared at the ceiling before slowly turning his head towards the voice he heard.

He blinked again and a small smile spread across his face.

“Hi Myc” He whispered

Mycroft smiled as tears weld in his eyes.

“Hello Gregory” He said he kissed his hand again.

Greg reached over with his free hand and gently touched the bruise on Mycroft’s head that was finally starting to fade.

“You are ok?” Greg asked

“More or less, I did sustain some damage, but I will endeavor to regain my full health” Mycroft replied. Greg furrowed his brow; he was still too groggy for full conversation. He tried to sit up, but stopped at pain washed over him.

“You sustained quite a bit of damage to your stomach, they repaired it but it’s a slow heal, and you broke your hip” Mycroft explained

“I broke my hip? I’m not that old.” Greg said with a pout.

“You are not old but you were in an elevator that fell several stories” Mycroft said. Greg just nodded.

Mycroft let go of Greg’s hand and took hold of the side of the bed and carefully eased himself into a semi-balanced standing position. Greg looked at the compression bandage that stuck out from the cut off leg of the hospital pajamas.

“Myc?” Greg asked looking up at him with worry.

“I will be alright my love” Mycroft said as he eased himself up on the bed next to Greg. “There was irreparable damage to my lower leg so, it was removed. I have started some physio therapy but will not be fitted for a prosthesis until the stitches have fully healed.”

Greg pulled Mycroft close and Mycroft laid his head on Greg’s shoulder.

“I was so scared I had lost you” Greg said choking back tears.

“I thought I had lost you” Mycroft replied voice trembling.

Greg gently pressed his lips against Mycroft’s “Please don’t every push me away again.” Greg said

“Never” Mycroft replied.

Greg gave him another soft kiss before drifting off to sleep again.

Mycroft smiled and dozed as he rest his head against Greg’s

=-=-=-=-

Sherlock looked at the building in front of him. There was a tarp over the front keeping the rain from doing any further damage to the interior. They had cleaned up the street well but it was still not fully open to non-residential traffic.

After a three almost four week stay in the hospital John and Sherlock were released. Mycroft had a room set up for them at his house, Sherlock while grateful for the extension of caring had a first been weary of moving in with big brother.

But his housekeeper had made then feel very welcome. It had been a month since the explosion. Sherlock still had to wear a neck brace but it wasn’t as bulky as the first one, and after yesterday’s physio appointment he was finally allowed to go without the immobilizer on his shoulder. John was doing well. A few nightmares on a couple of occasions but Sherlock was able to calm him.

Greg had been moved into the house as well, his healing was taking a bit longer, he had developed an infection in his stomach and that set back his recovery by a few weeks.

Sherlock had been a little shocked at first to see how much his big brother doted on his fiancé. Mycroft’s proposal had been very sweet, or so John had said so, Mycroft asked him the day he brought Greg home.

The Iceman’s hear was finally melting. Mycroft had always been so weary of letting anyone close, Sherlock was the same but not to the extent of Mycroft. It was nice to see that he was softening.

John and Sherlock were taking things slower. While John had cuddled next to Sherlock a few times while they still in the hospital they had separate ones at Mycroft’s. Rosie also shared their room. She was an amazing little one. Sherlock enjoyed lounging in the recliner with her sleeping on his chest.

“So I talked to the contractor” Mycroft said as he slowly made his way over, he was not fully comfortable on the crutches he needed to use as he awaited the process for getting his prosthetic leg. “They said the rest of the building is perfectly stable, so they can start the rebuilding process as soon as we give them the go ahead.”

John nodded as he looked down at Rosie who was sleeping comfortably in her baby sling head resting on John’s chest.

“Sounds good, how long will it take?” Sherlock asked

“About two months to get everything back proper” Mycroft replied “I have the original blueprints so we can build it to exact specifications if you would like or we can make modifications.”

“Move the door out to half-way down the hall so it encompasses the upstairs room into the entire flat” Sherlock said “The upper room, John’s old room will be Rosie’s room”

“Alright, and what about to the main floor level of 221B?” Mycroft asked

“The extra space from the moving of the door can be part of the kitchen and living area, the lavatory and our bedroom can remain the same” John said

Mycroft smiled at John using our, for the bedroom, he knew they were going slowly but he was also still expecting that happy announcement soon.

“We could shift the stairs to the other side putting Rosie’s room closer to yours and use the extra space to create a waiting room, for your consulting detective cases, if you are still going to continue those” Mycroft inquired.

“Ah yes, thank you Mycroft that would be quite nice” Sherlock smiled.

“I will have them draw up some plans and get started.” Mycroft said as they headed back to the car. Greg was inside leaning on the door sleeping.

There had been a lot of MET personnel funerals to attend over the last few weeks. Most had been held off till the injured had healed more and so full investigations could be done.

Greg had attended over 20 sometimes doing up to four funerals a day all for various officers and support personnel of the MET who he had known. Today there had only been one and this morning’s had been the hardest, the one for Sally Donovan. Her father had met Greg at the church doors, he wanted Greg to be an honorary pallbearer and walk alongside the casket. Greg had agreed. Dimmock and Anderson were the only pallbearers Sherlock had recognized; the other DI and the forensics tech had been out on a case and had not been injured. There were many faces in the congregation that they recognized as well, people who had worked cases with Greg, or had been at crime scenes Sherlock had visited.

It had taken a lot out of the still healing Greg; the emotional toil was a lot to handle along with physio and a budding relationship, so the DI tended to sleep a lot.

Mycroft carefully got in on the seat next to Greg as John helped Sherlock in to the seat facing them.

“We should get him home.” John said motioning to Greg. Mycroft nodded “He’s not feverish again is he?”

Mycroft gently laid the back of his hand on Greg’s forehead then cheek.

“No for once he is not” Mycroft said giving a small smile.

John nodded as Sherlock carefully turned in his seat so he could out the car window. He was silent as he watched the buildings go by.

“Things are different now” Sherlock finally spoke. “There’s a different feel to city.”

“What more on edge?” John asked

“No, more relaxed.” Sherlock said with a smile “Dark cloud over the city is gone. Moriarty is dead, Moran is in jail permanently. That will of course leave way for the regular class of criminals to flourish, but we’ll be back in action soon as will Gavin”

Mycroft sighed

“His name is Greg, you should be learning the name of your future brother in law” Mycroft said slightly exasperated

Sherlock took a moment to consider it and then smiled

“That is of course if Graham wants to go back to work, he could quite easily be a house husband living off the wage of his husband and attending footie and rugby matches at leisure” Sherlock smiled

“I don’t think he plans on retiring any time soon” Mycroft smiles “he’s get bored to easily”

“He shoot the wall out too then” John smiled

“No he bakes, wonderful delicious cakes and pies and tarts” Mycroft looked longingly out the window “If he stayed at home I would put on seven stone in a month.” Mycroft gave small smile “Best keep the hobbies till the weekend”

John smiled as Sherlock yawned. It was nice to know that the worst of it was all behind them.

 

=-=-=-=-=-=

Eurus carefully studied the video in front of her. Wasn’t that sweet her big brothers had both found love.

Soon, soon she would make her move, but not too soon. She had to make sure that they were settled and not expecting anything.

Then she would strike.

Until then, let them enjoy normalcy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've decided to turn this into a three part series so stay tuned for 
> 
> Quest for Normalcy http://archiveofourown.org/works/10511712/chapters/23197845
> 
> and
> 
> Battle of Sherrinford


End file.
